Dating Advice
by theprozacfairy
Summary: Wilbur goes back in time to get some dating advice from his father as a teen and sees something he doesn't like. The boys share their dating histories, the wealth of mistakes they've made and what they've learned. Finally complete!
1. Wilbur's Quandary

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, places, idea or events aside from the OCs (yup, I'm that lazy).

A/N: Okelydokely. I'm a little old to be writing fanfiction. Especially for a Disney movie. Also, I haven't written any fanfiction in about five years. So, uh, sorry if this sucks, has been done a million times over or is weird. Also, I just got into MTR so I haven't had much time to think about stuff- so this may be AU.

I know most people call him "Lewis", but after he was adopted I imagine he was called "Cornelius" or "Neil" for short. I had friend, growing up, who changed her name when she was adopted by her foster mother, and from the next day on, everyone called her Elizabeth (her new name). There was the occasional slip-up, but she considered herself Elizabeth from then on and that's what she responded to. If you all really don't like it, I can change it to Lewis.

R&R and let me know.

Summary: Fifteen-year-old Wilbur visits sixteen-year-old Cornelius for some dating advice. He ends up seeing something he doesn't like.

* * *

"Dad, can I ask you for some advice?" Wilbur asked, hesitantly. He had decided he would ask Sophie Goldberg out by this Friday or not at all. It was Wednesday night and he had barely spoken to her all week, despite the fact that they were pretty good friends. It was that fact, he figured, that made it all the more nerve-wracking. He'd asked girls out before, gotten rejected a few times, and gotten accepted a few. Usually, though, there wasn't much hanging in the balance. If a girl said no, they each went back to their respective groups of friends, no harm done (well, maybe a little dejection on Wilbur's side). If Sophie rejected him, would that be the end of their friendship? Would that mean that one of them would have to leave the group, or something? What if they went out and then broke up?

Wilbur knew that his parents were friends before they dated. He also knew they started dating sometime while his mom was in high school, so they were both teenagers. So he knew it was possible. He never heard the story of how it happened, though.

"Sure. What's up?"

Wilbur paused. He wasn't even sure what to ask his dad. It was still weird to ask his dad for dating advice. It didn't help that his dad had been out of the game for so long. He had asked Carl, but robots and humans apparently had drastically different dating rituals. He had also asked Laszlo and Art but the confirmed bachelors had no good tips to offer. Gaston had no personal space boundaries, which was well reflected in his dating advice. Bud had also given him what he was sure was bad advice. Shaving a strip off the back of his head and facing the opposite way may have worked as an opener for the older man, but Wilbur wasn't that brave or insane…or whatever Bud was. Spike, Dimitri, Joe and Fritz were out of the question for obvious reasons. Though he considered asking Fritz purely out of curiosity.

The father-son pair were a lot closer since the time-travel incident (the accidental one, not the two subsequent ones when Wilbur snuck out with a machine as though his father wouldn't know). He supposed interacting with your parents when they're your peers might do that to you. But still, asking dad for dating advice was weird.

"Wilbur?" He woke the boy from his reverie. Of course, that was when it came to him. How had he not thought of it earlier?

"Never mind, Dad."

* * *

Wilbur landed as inconspicuously as possible in the Robinson backyard. It was a Friday evening, nearing dusk. Wilbur, who had back in time to the Robinson house twice before, rang the doorbell after he listened for Spike and Dimitri for a minute then realizing they weren't there yet. Sixteen-year-old Cornelius answered the door dressed sharply in a nice shirt, slacks and a tie. The tie wasn't even funny or science-related, just a nice tie. This confused Wilbur slightly.

"Oh, hey. What are you doing here?" He sounded almost disappointed to see his future son. Strange way to greet your best friend. He let Wilbur in.

"I needed to ask some advice."

"Well make it quick, I have a date and she'll be here any minute."

"Perfect! It's about just that. I need dating advice."

"Um. Are you sure I'm the one to ask? Future me is married. I don't really have this down pat, yet.

"What's the problem? You're already dating the woman you're going to marry, you must be doing something right. You must have at least gotten the 'asking your friend out' part down. That's all I need help with. And planning a first date. And anything else, really."

Cornelius laughed nervously. "Not quite."

Wilbur didn't like the sound of the nervous laugh. "What do you mean 'not quite'? Things are going well between you and Franny, right?"

The doorbell rang again and Cornelius answered it.

"That's her. I have to go. Her dad's driving us. He's very strict. I have to impress him."

Wilbur didn't know Grandma and Grandpa Framagucci as well as the Bud and Lucille, but they didn't seem so strict to him. How could someone so austere possibly raise Gaston?

Cornelius nudged his future son out of the way and answered the door. Wilbur couldn't see her very well from where he stood, as his father was trying to hide him from the girl at the door, but he could see a little sliver. Why would his mother dye her hair auburn? She looked good with natural color. Also, she was wearing clothes he could not imagine Franny ever wore as a teenager. Too frilly and light pink. It finally dawned on him, though he could not see her face to be sure, that this was not his mother. He did not like this. Why was his dad dating a girl who was not his mother?

Cornelius was about to walk out and close the door when Wilbur dragged him back.

"Who is she and just what are you doing with her?"

Cornelius sighed. "Just wait in my room and I'll explain later," he told Wilbur. He turned to his date and said, "Sorry, that's just my cousin from out of town." He turned to introduce the two, but Wilbur had already left for Cornelius' room. He turned back to his date and closed the door. "Sorry about that."

"That's okay, Neili," the girl told him, followed by a peck on the lips. They held hands as they walked out to her dad's car. Even if her dad did chaperone the whole thing (which, as a sort-of father, Cornelius understood), he was sure it was going to be a good night. Until he got home, that was.

* * *

Sorry for the lack of formatting. A combination of my computer's screwiness and my browser being stupid, I cannot tell what, if any, of my HTML worked, so I deleted it all.

I'll probably have the second chapter up tomorrow or the next day. It'll include a flashback! Hope you enjoyed it. R&R, please.

Shiri


	2. Meet Victoria

A/N: It's been a long time since I was in middle school, so I don't know what the geeky kids do. When I was there, the boys played Magic Cards all the friggin' time, do they still do that?

Thanks for the review guys! As for no exposition, I used to write grand intricate expositions, but they took so long I lost interest in the story halfway through. I want to actually finish a non-one-shot (a feat I've accomplished only once, though I started over a dozen).

* * *

Wilbur was steaming, sitting on his dad's bed. What could he possibly be doing with that girl? Cornelius had a lot of explaining to do. Especially after he walked into the room with a contented, love-struck smile. He could not marry another girl. Wilbur wouldn't exist. Or he'd be different, or something. As weird as his family was, he could not imagine a life without nightly food fights and all the general insanity he'd grown up with. His dad had better not screw this up.

"Who was that girl?"

Cornelius, who had not been paying attention, just then remembered his son. He could see how this would look bad. No, this was not going to be easy.

"Uhhh," he stalled, "That's Kylie, my girlfriend."

"What?! Girlfriend!? What about Franny? You know, MY MOTHER?" Wilbur was enraged.

"Relax, she has a boyfriend, too." He meant to say that his dating someone else wasn't putting his future wife off. The horror-stricken look on his son's face told him that this did nothing to ease his fears.

Wilbur shook is head and took a deep breath. "What?!" he shouted. None of this made any sense to him. If Neil knew he was going to marry Franny, why bother with other girls?

"Take it easy. Give me some time to explain, okay?"

While Wilbur would have preferred an explanation that this girl was just a friend who happened to be a girl, that it was all some hoax, or even that he had no feelings for the girl he was with and was just using her to make Franny jealous (though that would have made his dad a complete jerk), he was willing to hear his father's side. "Okay, but you'd better have a good explanation."

"Even though I'll marry Franny, in all likelihood," Wilbur didn't like the sound of that last part, "most people don't just date one person and get married. I should be a little experienced before getting married." He was having trouble finding the right words.

Wilburn made a face. Cornelius hit his son lightly on the back of the head, "That's not what I meant. It's like inventing. Sometimes I need to fail and learn a few times before getting it right. If Franny was the first girl I ever dated, not only would you not exist, but she would probably never speak to me after age fourteen."

"That bad?"

"This may surprise you, but I'm not the most socially adept person." Wilbur laughed; that much, he understood.

* * *

Thirteen-year-old Cornelius sat in his Social Studies class, managing to take notes without actually paying attention. He was only at school with kids his age part of the day for socialization purposes, anyway. The latter part of his days where spent in college classrooms, learning way beyond what he ever could in middle school. He hadn't had many friends, but he missed the ones he had after he left for college. So his parents (he loved being able to call someone his parents) enrolled him again. Actually, after he was adopted, Cornelius had a slightly easier time socializing, and belonged to a small group of loosely associated nerds. He wasn't so focused on being wanted because he knew he was, which made him more confident and easier to get along with. He was still a geek, but he wasn't a needy, pessimistic geek.

Today, though, it wasn't really the whole group of friends that was on his mind. He just happened to sit behind Victoria Morales (okay, he had chosen that seat at beginning of the semester). She was smart, funny, creative and cute. And she wasn't repulsed by him. He was having a bit of an internal battle, though. He was definitely infatuated with Victoria but he felt like he was supposed to like Franny. He and Franny were friends, but he just wasn't interested in her that way. Not yet, anyway. And Franny made no indication of wanting to be more than friends with Cornelius. Was there any point in waiting for something to happen between them?

The bell rang and the teacher dismissed class. Before he could finish packing up his stuff and leaving, Victoria turned to Cornelius. "Neil, can you meet me outside Mrs. Powell's class at lunch? I want to talk to you about something." She looked a little nervous.

"Sure," he told her. He was secretly ecstatic. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but he always enjoyed spending any time alone with her.

He walked out of class into the hall on the way to his locker. On the way, he saw Franny and their mutual friend, Greg walking together. He was about to say hi to them when he saw that they were holding hands, and decided not to interrupt. He smiled, he had a feeling Greg liked her (and she had left a singing frog in his locker which indicated…something). As he exchanged his Social Studies book for his Spanish one, he found himself amazed. He was not the least bit jealous. He was genuinely happy for the both of them. If he was going to marry her, shouldn't he have some sort of antagonistic feelings to the idea of her dating another guy?

Then again, marriage was a long way off. Wilbur wasn't going to be born until he was twenty-nine. A lot could happen in sixteen years. Heck, so much had changed for him in the last year, alone. The idea that he should be after something, that might not happen for another decade, now sounded a little ridiculous. How many relationships that start in middle school end up in marriage, anyway? He sat down in his Spanish class next to Greg. Greg looked very happy.

At lunch, Cornelius practically flew to Mrs. Powell's class. He and his friends often ate lunch there, away from the crowds, and played Magic Cards. Actually, Cornelius only stayed at school till the end of lunch twice a week, but that was enough for him.

He ended up getting there before Victoria. He waited anxiously, but happily, as others passed him into the classroom. He hoped she wasn't going to announce something bad. What if she was moving, or she had cancer? Suddenly Cornelius felt a little sick. True, he had looked through a window into the future, but a-day-and-a-half didn't tell him everything. There was so much he didn't know about how things were to end up the way they did. Or what bumps and bruises happened in between now and then.

Victoria walked up to him. She was smiling. This was good.

"Hey, Neil."

"Hi, Vicky."

"Um, I was wondering," she paused, "Do you wanna go out sometime?"

Cornelius was taken aback, but in a good way. He hadn't expected this, exactly. He had been wrestling with the idea of asking her out. It hadn't occurred to him that she might ask him. He guessed that this was fate's way of telling him it was okay date her. Maybe there was no good reason to wait for Franny. After a few seconds he realized he had to say something. "You mean, like a date, or something?" Duh. Of course that's what she meant. Now he'd made her more nervous.

"Er, yeah."

"Then yeah. I'd really like that." She smiled. He smiled. He could clearly see the yellow and sky-blue rubber bands on her braces. It was a perfect Kodak moment. Then came the awkwardness. They were going out. So what was he supposed to do now? Should he hold her hand, or was that just when they're walking? He just stared, smiling, for bit.

"Hello? Earth to Cornelius." She waved a hand in front of him.

"Sorry," he laughed nervously.

"Here." She gave him a slip of paper with her phone number and email address. "Call me tonight, okay?" Cornelius nodded. Victoria looked through the window in the classroom door. Most of their friends were there, already. Franny was watching them expectantly. Victoria gave her the thumbs up, took Cornelius by the hand and walked in. Quickly, she let go as she, Franny, Lizzy and Alexis (another female friend) went off in their own corner and giggled about something. Cornelius didn't pay attention for too long, though, as the image of Lizzy giggling was pretty frightening (he could have sworn he heard thunder from somewhere). The boys put some desks together and got out their Magic Cards. Cornelius wished he could stay in school a little longer just to walk through the halls holding Victoria's hand, but he had to leave after lunch. He had an important neurophysiology lab that he couldn't miss.

* * *

"You didn't have to say yes!" Wilbur objected.

"So I should have turned down a chance to date the girl I was infatuated with for a girl I had no feelings for, and who had a boyfriend, because I visited the future and saw that I was married to her?"

"Yes. Not just because you were married to her, but also because you had a kid with her and he was the most awesome son imaginable." Cornelius rolled his eyes.

"When you hear what happened with her, you'll be glad it wasn't Franny. Trust me."

* * *

A/N: See y'all in a few days. Basically, this will be the romantic histories of Cornelius (leading up to dating Kylie or Franny, possibly up to marriage), and of Wilbur leading up to his first date with Sophie. I think, anyway. Also, if you ever have the chance to take neurophysiology, I recommend that you do. It's difficult but it's so interesting. Yay, brains!


	3. Mr Smartypants Screws Up

Disclaimer: I don't own Cornelius, Franny, Wilbur or any of the other Robinsons.

A/N: I'm leaving Neil in because someone liked it! I had a friend growing up named Cornelius and no one ever called him by his real name. His school ID even said "Neil" (I imagine, though, that Lewis/Cornelius can pull that name off, better).

I didn't get too much into the descriptions of his friends because it's not actually about his friends, but if that's what you all want, I'll work on it (okay, not this chapter but there's hardly any mention of them). Not all smart people are geeks, by the way (and it's not necessarily an insulting term). The term geek implies some social ineptitude. Not all geeks are good at school stuff, either. In my class, our middle school valedictorian was very popular and not a geek at all. I'll describe them more, later, but the point is, they're the type of kids that don't care what the others think. Not the ones who want everyone to think they don't care. They do what's practical (like wearing pocket protectors) over what's cool. Also, I may have misled you. I'm not _that_ old. I graduated from high school two years ago (just turned 20).

As for Wilbur being older, he can go back to whatever time he wants (unless I'm mistaken about how the time machine works) so at the age of fifteen, he can go back 28 years, instead of thirty, and see Cornelius at age 16. If Bowler Hat Guy can get a dinosaur, I'm sure Wilbur can go back 28 years.

* * *

Cornelius and Victoria were about to go on their first real date. He was very nervous. He wore his best button-down shirt and slacks, but he felt weird "dressed up." They were going to an afternoon movie, then they were coming back to the Robinson place for dinner. Bud was driving them to and from the movie theater. He would also be at dinner. The fact that the date required this much interaction between Victoria and his parents made him even more nervous, but both of their parents agreed that most of the date should be supervised. In a way, he felt like he'd made it, most teenagers were embarrassed by their parents or resented them in some way. Cornelius wasn't exactly embarrassed, but he was worried their quirkiness might scare Vicky, a bit.

He had seen a lot of his peers tell their parents things like "Mom! You can't wear that in public!" and "Dad, shutup!" He wouldn't go so far as to stifle their expression. He could never take them for granted like that. Not having a family for the first twelve years of his life (a long time, especially considering that he was only thirteen) taught him to appreciate the family he now had more than most kids. That didn't mean he couldn't fear their impact on his social life.

Also, he couldn't figure out what to do with his hair. He was having a particularly bad hair day. But even if he hadn't been, he felt should look a little more presentable than normal. Apparently, there wasn't a single product in existence that could keep his hair down. Oh well. He gave up. It was just hair, after all. He looked in the mirror one more time and decided he needed to invent something to fix it, one day, but he didn't have the time, today.

He got in the car on the way to her house. Bud pulled up. They sat there silently for a minute before Bud told him to get out of the car and get her. Oops. He had kind of assumed Bud would honk the horn, but that wouldn't be so polite would it? Cornelius made note of this.

He rang the doorbell. Boy, were his palms sweaty. She appeared, looking gorgeous. She was wearing a lavender dress and black leggings and had straightened her normally wavy, brown hair. That wasn't what impressed him. She wore sparkly lip gloss and her light brown eyes really stood out. He guessed that she was wearing some sort of eye makeup, not that he knew anything about that stuff. Cornelius silently cursed himself for not being able to fix the crow's nest that stood atop his head.

After a moment of them both staring and smiling, Cornelius shook himself out of his stupor. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I just have to tell my parents I'm leaving. Come in and sit down." After leading him to the living room, she disappeared behind a doorway. She came back a moment later, looking slightly disgruntled, with her mother. Cornelius stood up as Vicky introduced the two of them.

"How nice to finally meet you, Cornelius." She said as she shook his hand. "Do you mind if I take a picture? I don't want to miss recording my baby's first date!" She pinched one of Victoria's cheeks.

Victoria turned red, groaned and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything Cornelius responded "No problem, Mrs. Morales."

"See, I told you he wouldn't mind."

After the mini photo session, they were off. Cornelius told Bud about the picture, finding it endearing. Victoria looked like she could have slapped him for recounting what had just happened. "Why didn't I think of that?" Bud responded, "I may have to get the camera out before dinnertime." He did end up taking pictures, but his were much more silly. He strongly encouraged sticking out tongues bunny ears and general oddity. He got a particularly nice one of Victoria "strangling" Cornelius. Cornelius hoped that one wouldn't make it to the photo album.

* * *

"So that was your mistake? Repeating something she found embarrassing? It doesn't sound that bad."

"That was the just first one."

* * *

About a month after their first date, they were out together again, for the fifth or sixth time. They were just taking a walk around the park today, playing a little one-on-one basketball (her favorite sport, and Cornelius was starting to like it), and then returning to her place for video games. She beat him badly at almost all video games, but he didn't mind, surprisingly. She also beat him at basketball fair and square, though she often thought he was just going easy on her because he was about five inches taller than her. He liked seeing her happy, and she was a gracious winner. It was fine with him if she was better than her at some things.

When they got back to her place, Mrs. Morales was waiting for them. She looked concerned. "Cornelius, your mother called," their parents had gotten to know each other over the last month. It was nice to know that there was a responsible adult on the other end watching them or driving them around. "She said there was some emergency with your grandmother in Ohio and that she and your father had to leave. You're going to have to stay the night."

Cornelius was, understandably worried. "Why didn't she call me on my cell?"

"She said she didn't want to ruin your date. Look, I'm so sorry about this. I don't know exactly what's going on or I'd tell you. If there's anything I can do, just ask, okay?" He nodded.

Since there was nothing any of them could really do, Cornelius and Victoria eventually decided to get back to their plan and play some video games. Diversion was good at times like these. 

Later, after dinner, the three of them were sitting in the living room just chatting, and sipping hot cocoa with marshmallows. Cornelius thought it was very nice. Every once in a while, though, Victoria got really embarrassed by something her mother said. Eventually her mom took out the ole' photo album. Cornelius didn't have this luxury. There were a few photos of him growing up at the orphanage, and school pictures from ever year, but he had very few memories with his new family. He didn't have a photo album of all the cool, fun, silly, weird and/or funny things he did growing up. He was enthralled by the whole thing. Plus, Victoria was so cute as a toddler!

Victoria was okay with it, at first, because her mother let her veto certain photos or events that she didn't want Cornelius seeing. But at one point, she got up to put the empty mugs in the sink and use the bathroom. This left Mrs. Morales the opportunity to show Cornelius some of the photos that she thought were too adorable or funny to pass up that Vicky had disapproved of. After seeing them, Cornelius didn't understand what was so wrong with them. But he supposed he might never be able to because he didn't have such photos to hide. None of them made him think any less of his girlfriend. He found the whole thing endearing, just like the photos on their first date.

When Victoria came back, she caught her mother red-handed. She was showing him the pictures of her at 18 months old, not only in a sailor suit (gag) but she was practically covered in mud and spaghetti sauce. She didn't have much hair yet, but apparently had compensated by covering her head with the stringy pasta.

Victoria turned red. "Mom, what are you doing! Oh my God. I can't believe you showed him that stupid picture. I said no! What's wrong with you? Do you know what 'No" means?" she groaned. She was angry. Very angry. She stormed off, partly because she was embarrassed at how she had just acted, partly because she was embarrassed at what Cornelius had just seen and partly because she was just so angry at her mother.

Cornelius followed her. "Calm down, it's alright," he turned her around and hugger her, "I still like you. It's not that big a deal." He kissed her on the cheek, which made her smile a bit and calm down.

She took a deep breath. "It still wasn't nice of her. She didn't respect my wishes. It's so embarrassing! And it's mean! Wouldn't you be upset?" Cornelius honestly had no clue.

"Don't get so embarrassed. Like I said, it didn't negatively change my opinion of you in any way." This did not entirely placate her. "You know, you really shouldn't be so hard on her. She's just trying to do what's best for you and enjoy it the best she can along the way. You'll be off in college in a few years, and that's probably scary to her, especially since you're the youngest. Someday, she'll be gone, and you'll wish you hadn't said those things." He didn't like thinking that way, but he did. He loved his parents, but not having them for so long reminded him that he wouldn't always have them, so he should treat them right while he could.

Victoria looked at him to see if he was serious. When she realized she was, she glared daggers. Cornelius was confused.

* * *

"Don't ask me how, but I didn't understand that I shouldn't lecture my girlfriend. Especially when she needed to be comforted."

"Girls prefer to be comforted over being lectured, got it" Wilbur said slowly, pretending to write it down as if it were some new concept. Cornelius punched him in the shoulder for being a smart-ass.

"I doubt Franny would stand for that kind of thing."

"Oh no. That, she would not have tolerated."

"See what I mean?"

"I still can't see that ending a relationship. Kind of petty."

"That didn't end the relationship. She still put up with me for a couple months. Until I screwed up big-time."

* * *

About two months later, they were sitting in Social Studies. Things were going very well at this point. They hadn't had a fight since the photo album incident, and they were getting along swimmingly. Apparently, though, things were going a little too well. Cornelius peered over her shoulder, hoping to get a look at her smile and the opportunity to whisper something silly to her. He saw something rather alarming, instead. At the bottom of her page of notes, she had written in fancy cursive, "Mrs. Victoria Robinson".

His eyes nearly popped out of his head and he swallowed. He started to panic, a little. He couldn't tell her he saw it, though, because it was obviously written where he wasn't supposed to see. Girls this age did that sort of thing all the time, right? So maybe there was no reason to worry. That didn't stop him from worrying. He couldn't marry her! Then there'd be no Wilbur. He was way too young to be thinking about marriage, anyway. They had only been dating for three months! He was starting to dislike the fact that things weren't "set in stone". She turned around to talk to him, as she had finished their in-class assignment. For the first time, Cornelius hadn't even started, much less finished before her. He was, well, elsewhere.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't finished yet," he scrambled nervously, trying to find the right page in the textbook. "Can we talk in a minute?"

"Sure," she had no problem. Actually she was amazed, "I think this is the first time I've beaten you," she said playfully, "you must be losing your touch."

"It's only because I haven't started yet. You wouldn't beat me if we started at the same time," he wasn't even paying attention to what he was saying; he was just trying to finish so he could spend time with her.

"What?" she sounded hurt, "I know you're smarter than me, but that doesn't mean I can never be as good as you at anything school-related. You don't even like history" Also, she had raised her voice from the near whisper they usually used when talking in class.

Cornelius realized what he had just said. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"Even better," he could see tears well up in her eyes. By this point many of their classmates were watching them. It was funny to see Mr. Smartypants totally screw up. "Not only were you insulting me, you weren't even listening. Your autopilot is set to degradation. Just what every girl wants from her boyfriend." Cornelius put his head in his hands and shook his head.

"I meant I wasn't paying attention to what I was saying. You were making fun of me because you beat me. See? I was listening to you. I really didn't mean to hurt you." Of course they were being so disruptive, the teacher sent them both out to detention.

Victoria wouldn't talk to Cornelius all the way to the detention room. This was the first time either of them had actually gotten in trouble for misbehaving, so they were both rather flustered about that, as well. It was a very tense situation. Not only had he insulted her and gotten her in trouble, it was in front of the whole class, so she was mortified, too.

That night Cornelius tried to call her, but she wouldn't answer the phone. The next day, Franny and Lizzy were avoiding him, too, and by virtue of relationship, Greg couldn't talk to him either.

* * *

"And she never spoke you again?"

"She did, eventually. A few days later she officially broke up with me. After a few weeks things calmed down, but we were never as good friends as we had been. She started growing apart from our little group, and eventually found a new group of friends. I don't think that was entirely my fault, but I definitely had a hand in it."

"Oh. So, uh…" This was precisely what Wilbur was worried about. He didn't want to lose Sophie as a friend, and he really didn't want anyone else to lose her as a result of his folly. "So you wouldn't recommend dating a close friend, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that. I mean, if you really think it might work out, go ahead. One of my best friends is an ex-girlfriend. I guess it worked the opposite way, there. But… well, Franny used to date Greg and they broke up, but went back to being friends pretty quickly. I think Victoria joined our group of friends mainly to be near me. She fit in okay at first, but after a while, her personality changed, as did ours, and we just drifted apart. She started caring about what everyone else thought of her, more. She hated it when made math jokes or talked about Sci-fi books and she couldn't stand Franny and Lizzy's talks of ants and frogs. She probably would have left anyway, just later, if we had never dated, or hadn't broken up so quickly." Not that three months was a short relationship at thirteen years old.

"I see." Sophie definitely hadn't joined Wilbur's group to be near him. "But how can you tell if they'll 'drift away' or not?"

Cornelius shrugged. "You can't. You just have to take that chance. I think it was worth dating Victoria, and giving it a chance instead of always wondering. Victoria was already kind of capricious; Franny wasn't. Maybe that has something to do with it? Really, though, I think future me will be better at this."

* * *

A/N: I know Victoria changed her mind very quickly from thinking of spending her whole life with him to wanting nothing to do with him in a matter of minutes, but I can honestly say I've seen 13 y/o girls do just that with less reason. Embarrassment is a powerful emotion. That's why so many people fear public speaking more than death.

This chapter was really difficult for me because I put a lot of my "first date" story into Wilbur's first date (but our parents did play a big part because we lived too far away from each other to convey ourselves). By the way, the next few chapters will be Wilbur recounting his first romance. Why? Because I say so. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Review, please.


	4. Bell & Brrr

A/N: Yay, somebody likes it! And it's on two people's alert lists. I don't even know if they had that feature last time I had an account here. I feel so special

* * *

"Your turn."

"What do mean by 'my turn'?" Wilbur actually knew well what Cornelius meant, he was just hoping he was wrong.

"I told you about my first girlfriend and all the stupid mistakes I made. Now you have to."

Wilbur glared. Actually, for all the mistakes he had made, his first relationship ended through little or no fault of his own. It wasn't really one of those "boy was I dumb" funny stories. He decided he probably had to tell it or Cornelius wouldn't let up. "Fine, but mine isn't so funny, so don't expect much."

"Oh. That's okay. If you really don't want to…"

Wilbur shrugged. "It's got a funny beginning, I think. No big deal."

* * *

Wilbur entered his English class on the first day of eighth grade. He was actually happy school had begun because he had been grounded all summer for the garage thing. Even though school took up most of his time, he could still have fun on the weekends. Scrawled on the board was the message "Sit wherever you want, today. I'll assign seats tomorrow." Wilbur took a seat toward the back of the class, close to the door. It was the last class before lunch and he wanted as quick an exit as possible.

Rayne Price, one of the most popular and, arguably, most beautiful girls in school sat next to Wilbur. It actually had nothing to do with Wilbur, one of her friends was already sitting two seats over from him. She just wanted to sit by Carli Chen. The moment he noticed who was next to him, the low-cut, short red dress she wore, her flawlessly made-up face and the spun gold she called hair, he stood up to find a new seat. A quick exit wasn't worth sitting next her and her ego for an entire hour.

He found one close enough to the back of class for his comfort, but far enough away from Rayne to keep him from gagging. Someone was already sitting at the desk to the left of him. Something about her dirty blonde curly hair, round green eyes and somewhat silly expression looked familiar. Oh yeah, he had her in one of his earlier classes.

He turned to her. "Hi, it's Allyson Woods, right?"

"No that's my sister. We look a lot alike, though."

"Oh. Are you guys twins?"

She sighed, "No she's a year younger than me, but she skipped a grade."

Wilbur had no clue what he was supposed to say here. "Oh. That's gotta suck," he finally managed.

She shrugged, "Could be worse. Our big brother has severe medical problems and is mentally challenged."

"Ooo, that's really gotta suck," he said as sympathetically as he could manage despite the fact that he was stunned. He really hadn't expected that.

"Sometimes. But it makes me appreciate a lot of things more than most, like the fact that I don't have to prick myself with needles everyday, I can learn most things with relative ease and spend little time in a hospital bed. You can only pity yourself so much when you live someone like him."

Wilbur nodded. "I can imagine," he couldn't fully grasp it, actually, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. It wasn't something he'd really thought about before. He had thought about the people with illnesses and stuff, but he had never thought about their families, much, and how that must impact their lives.

The bell rang and class started.

Later, it was time for advanced math. He liked math. He wasn't as good at it and science as his dad was, but he had inherited some ability, there. He had breezed through Geometry last year and was sure Algebra 2 wouldn't be very different.

When he walked into class, he saw that the girl from his English class was there, too. She looked up and motioned for him to sit next to her.

"So, stranger, do you have a name?"

"Yeah, I'm Wilbur."

"Wilbur, eh? Anyone ever call you Wil or… Bur?"

"People call me Wil, sometimes, but not often. Only when they're being lazy."

"Oh, well that's gotta change. From now on, you're Bur."

"Bur?"

"Yeah, like 'Brrr, it's cold'" she crossed her arms and shivered.

"It's the second syllable of my name. I get it."

"You catch on pretty quickly, Bur." She laughed at her own joke.

Once again, the bell rang and class started. The teacher, Mr. Tobias, took down a poster from the board to reveal a problem. They were to add every number from one to ten thousand. He looked rather old, tired and apathetic. This was probably his last year before retirement "You have five minutes to solve this problem. You may work in pairs, groups of three, or on your own. No more than three, though. Then I can never shut you up."

"You're working with me." She stated. He didn't have a choice.

"Sure." He got out his calculator, "You take 4,999 and under and I'll do 5,000 and up, okay?"

"Or, we could do it the easy way."

"Easy way?" The girl nodded. "If there's and easy way, I'm all for it."

She wrote some numbers on a piece of notebook paper. The first line was just one through four an ellipsis, then the numbers 9,997 through 10,000. The next line had the same thing, but in reverse, so number 10,000 was directly under 1, number 9,999 was under 2 etc. "Add the first two. You get 10,001, right? Then add the next two and, again, you get 10,001."

"Yeah," Wilbur was catching on, "For each pair, you'll get 10,001, so for the whole thing you get 10,001 times 10,000, right?

"Yeah, but that would be adding all the numbers from 1-10,000 twice, so you take 10,001 and multiply it by half of 10,000 or 5,000."

"So the answer is 50,005,000." He said looking up from his calculator.

"Yup." They still had three-and-a-half minutes left.

"You know, I never caught your name, I know it isn't Allyson, so what is it?"

"People call me Clay."

"Clay?"

"Yeah. It's short for 'Clarabella' but if you call me that, I will hurt you."

"Yeah, you don't really look like a Clarabella, but you don't look like a 'Clay" either. I'm gonna call you Bell."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, clay is messy and conforms to whatever someone does to it. The bell doesn't let people tell it what to do. If you try to push it around too much, it yells at you…or rings at you. Plus, the bell brings freedom. Sweet, end-of-school freedom."

She had to chuckle at his over-personification of things. "And it has nothing to do with the fact that 'Belle' with an 'e' at the end means beautiful?"

Wilbur hadn't thought of that. "Uh, no."

"Damn!" She said with mock disappointment (but her smile showed through). This made Wilbur laugh. She could make fun of herself. Cool.

"Hey, thanks for the tip on the problem." He was really just filling time. They still had a couple minutes and Wilbur didn't like awkward silences.

"No big. So…what's your favorite band?"

"I could never name just one. I'm in my own band, though." He didn't need to mention the other members where frogs he'd borrowed from his mom.

"Really, what do you play?"

"Bass guitar." He smirked, he rubbed his fingernails on the breast of his shirt and looked at them, arrogantly. "We're pretty good, too."

"Really? I play guitar, too! I don't have a band yet, though. Just me and Karen. That's my guitar's name."

"Cool," he said casually, as he nodded.

"My sister thinks I'm nuts for naming my guitar. But she's imaginationally challenged."

"Your sister knows nothing about rock & roll. You have to name your guitar. How else will you get to know her? My guitar's named Lisa."

Bell was amazed at how well he understood her line of thinking. This was the first time someone didn't look at her like she was nuts after she told them she named her guitar. Then again, she didn't know many other guitar players, as she was learning from books. Her sister and her dad's side of the family were too square and inhibited for that type of thinking and everyone on her mom's side of the family was tone-deaf, so they didn't even attempt musicianship.

It had been more than five minutes at that point, and no one was working on the problem anymore so the teacher rang a little bell. "Alright, settle down, everyone. As for seating," he looked so bored, "Sit where you want. I'll pass around a seating chart, just put your name where you sit. Be careful though, if you sit next to someone you'll talk to a lot, your grade may suffer." Boy was he dull.

* * *

"Bell? Didn't she find that a little insulting?"

Wilbur shrugged, "She never objected. And she called me 'Bur' so it was kind of even."

"That's so weird."

"Yeah. I guess we both wanted to be creative. Once we started dating, it was nice to have nicknames that only we used. It confused other people."

"Confusing other people is good?"

"It's funny. So, yes confusing other people is good."

* * *

It was three weeks into the new school year and Wilbur was hopeless. He had no clue why, but he couldn't get Bell out of his head. It was still teenage infatuation, but he had never felt anything like this for anyone. He'd had crushes, sure, and he been attracted to girls physically many times (occasionally to his embarrassment), but it had never been so strong. He never really cared that much, before. He wasn't himself anymore; even his family had taken notice. This was bad.

His friend Rory (who dressed like a punk in torn clothes and had dyed his Mohawk green) laughed at him. Wilbur had just been staring off into space for about five minutes and Rory knew why. His friends found Wilbur's obsession with the girl hilarious. He never told anyone about it, but they all knew. He acted so strangely around her. She called him "Bur" and he just took it! Actually, she playfully beat him up quite a bit, and he just took that, too. When his male friends did the same thing, he punched back. Usually harder.

Lunch was nearly over when Bell walked by. "Hey, Bur!" she said cheerfully, "Can I see your math homework? I just want to compare some answers."

Wilbur blinked for a minute, "What? Oh right, math homework. Sure." He got out his math notebook and flipped a few pages, "Number 15 was kind of hard, huh?"

"Actually, I had trouble with 17 and 19. I thought 15 was a breeze."

"Well, I guess they used different concepts…" He saw that she had written 'Follow me,' on her homework paper. Also, she had done problem 17 three times before she got it right.

He packed up his stuff and followed her to a shady spot just outside the gym. Wilbur didn't know what she wanted, but he decided he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to know. "Will you go out with me?" He blurted out.

She smiled, "Finally! I was wondering when you'd ask. If you hadn't in one more week, I was going to ask you, myself. Oh, by the way, this is a 'yes'."

"Yeah, I never could have figured that out on my own. You were going to ask me out yourself, so it follows logically that you would turn me down when I asked you." Despite his sarcasm, he had not been expecting her to say yes, and was very pleasantly surprised. Looking back, later that day, he'd wonder how he ever missed it. She gave all sorts of signals and hints. She flirted with him almost constantly. How could he have been so oblivious?

"I can never tell with you," she told him, "you can be really smart sometimes, but you can also be aggravatingly unobservant." Even though she was making fun of him, or possibly because of it, Wilbur was ecstatic, though he made sure to keep his cool exterior.

* * *

"Interesting. Ten seconds after asking her out, you were making fun of each other."

Wilbur shrugged again. "That's just how we worked.."

"And you let her beat you up?"

"She never really injured me, or anything. You'd be amazed, but it was kind of fun"

"I'd be amazed if you could associate anyone, girlfriend or not, beating you up with anything good. Sounds kind of dysfunctional."

"Maybe it was, but we were together for over a year, so," Cornelius cut him off.

"You were with your first girlfriend, whom you started dating when you were thirteen, for over a year?" he asked incredulously. He considered himself more sensitive than Wilbur and knew that his future son could get on people's nerves pretty easily. If he could only keep his first relationship going for three months, which he considered pretty long for a relationship between thirteen-year-olds, how could Wilbur do it for a whole year? He had to admit, his pride was hurt a bit.

"Yeah. So what?"

"Nothing, it's just…"

"Hard to believe?"

He laughed nervously. He didn't want to insult Wilbur. "Yeah, kind of."

"I don't think anyone was more surprised than I was when I realized we'd been together a year. Well, just under. Luckily, I realized it in time to plan something for the day." He still felt weird calling it an anniversary. Anniversaries were something old people had.

Cornelius was intrigued to find out how their relationship worked and what could have ruined something that sounded so "perfect". Especially since it supposedly wasn't Wilbur's fault. He wasn't sure how much of his son's story he believed.


	5. Most frogs can't sing

A/N: This couple will take a while. They'll probably have four or five more chapters just to themselves. Sorry. Wilbur's next won't girl take so long. This might be the last chapter for a few days, as I'm beginning to have more homework again. Also, the science in this chapter is real (but very simplified), but can be skipped over.

* * *

Wilbur resented how much he was still dependent on his parents. Why couldn't he have his driver's license yet? Why did there have to be a stupid rule about being sixteen? His father flew them over to her house. Luckily, she lived close enough to the movie theater to just use their skateboards. Which, coincidently, flew. So why could he fly when standing on just a few pieces of metal and plastic; but he couldn't when he had a huge metal cage around him? Okay, maybe it was because skateboards moved a snail's pace when compared to cars and never got more than three feet off the ground. Whatever.

"Bur!" she said almost like she wasn't expecting him, "Whatup?"

"Uh, we have a date."

She scoffed, "I know that. Come in, my mom won't let me go until she's met you."

This made Wilbur nervous. "Wilbur Robinson?" Mrs. Woods had the same dirty blonde curly hair only frizzier, hazel eyes and generally older.

"That's me."

"The son of Cornelius Robinson?" Wilbur sometimes hated his father's almost celebrity status.

"Uh, yeah."

"Wow. I have to admit, I didn't believe Clara when she first told me. Not that I had thought about it much, but imagined you would be too serious to get along well with her."

"If you met my family, you wouldn't be saying that" If she thought about it, the man who decided to use bubbles as public transportation had to be a little out there. Even if Cornelius was serious, that didn't mean his son had to be. They chatted awkwardly for a little while, as Mr. and Mrs. Woods tried to get to know Wilbur make sure he was trustworthy.

"Well, you seem like a fine, upstanding gentleman," Bell unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a laugh, "You can go, but Clara, be sure to be back by 8:30- you know the consequences."

"Okay, mom. The movie ends at a quarter to eight so I'm sure we'll be home in time." She and Wilbur left, got on their skateboards and flew away.

"The movie ends at, like 7:20, at the latest," Wilbur told her.

"I know. I just thought I'd add in some pad time. So we can talk and stuff."

Wilbur had no clue what "stuff" meant, but he got a little nervous. This was his first date ever, so the most physical contact he was expecting was possibly handholding. He did know, however, that Bell had some experience at this. The thought that their disparity in dating experience might cause problems hadn't crossed his mind until now. Oh well. Not much he could do about it, now. If he felt uncomfortable, he could just tell her, right?

"Yo, Charlie Chaplin, didja lose your voice?" Wilbur didn't get the Chaplin reference.

"Huh? Who's Charlie whateverhisnameis?"

Bell rolled her eyes, "Silent film star. Never mind. You okay?"

"Yeah, just spaced-out for a minute."

"I'll let you off this time, but don't do it too much. I'll think I'm boring you."

"I don't think that's possible. Confuse me? Sure, but you're too crazy to bore me."

She laughed. "Careful there. I might accidentally trip you if you hurt my feelings."

"Oh, sorry," He didn't mean to hurt her. She called herself crazy all the time. Then again, she contradicted herself all the time. Depending on what day you asked, she was either always right or always wrong. Maybe he had to take what she said about herself with a grain of salt. Girls are confusing.

"No sweat. I was just kidding about the tripping you thing. We're actually going kinda fast," they were traveling at nearly 20 miles per hour, "Tripping you right now would be pretty cruel." So she had thought about it, but she'd decided against it. Wilbur wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

* * *

"Girls are confusing. How did you ever figure that one out, Einstein?" Cornelius chuckled.

"Now who's being the smart-ass? You gotta admit, she sounds a little more confusing than the average girl."

Cornelius nodded in concession, "Yeah, I guess. I've never met a girl who claimed she was always wrong. Or who threatened such serious bodily harm over something so trivial. You sure do know how to pick 'em."

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

* * *

"How did I ever let you convince me to see this?" Wilbur wondered aloud as they sat in dark the theater waiting for the movie to start.

"Oh, it'll be fun. How can you possibly resist these corny animated movies?"

"Simple: I don't watch them. If it has a singing platypus, I don't but a ticket and I don't walk into the theater where they're screening it."

"How sad. You don't know what you're missing. Singing platypuses are one of life's greatest sources of joy."

"Well, I'm about to find out what I've been missing since I was nine, am I not?"

"No, this one has no platypuses. There are singing frogs, though."

"Meh. There's nothing really special about singing frogs." Bell laughed at this. She didn't realize he was serious, and since he had grown up with singing frogs, he had forgotten that they weren't the norm. "Oh right most frogs don't sing," he muttered to himself.

"What was that, Bur?" She thought she heard him say most frogs don't sing. But no frogs sang, right?

"Nothing." He shook his head, "Never mind."

The previews started and the ridiculously excited expression on Bell's face told him he should shut up or face unsavory consequences. The movie wasn't as bad as he'd imagined it would be. It was still painful to watch in places, but this was where Bell seemed to enjoy it the most, so he stomached it.

He hated to admit it, but even he cheered when the rag-tag Bison danced on the hill in triumph. And when it's girlfriend, who thought he had betrayed her by befriending the brown bear (when really, he was being kidnapped), returned to his side, Wilbur felt a strange sense of elation. Then he had a strange sense of something closing in on him and then a strange sense of someone else's lips on his. It was a rather chaste kiss, actually, but that didn't stop it from completely dumbfounding Wilbur.

The movie was over and the lights were up in the theater but Wilbur was still a little stunned. He knew plenty of kids his age were well past "first kiss" territory, but somehow, he wasn't ready for it. Scratch that. He wanted it, and now that it had happened, he realized it wasn't that big a deal, but before now, he would have saved it for the third date. Then again, he didn't want to come on too strong, physically. Since, traditionally, men could physically overpower women and, well, force them to do things they didn't want to (even if it was just kissing), maybe it was better for the girl to decide when she was ready. Or maybe he was over thinking this.

Bell looked over at him. "Too soon?"

"No. It was fine." He didn't know exactly what to say, but he felt his mouth moving so he decided he should listen, "Can we do that again?"

Bell smiled. She found it rather amusing how much power she had over him. "How about we get out of this theater so the nice robot can clean up and go to the ice cream shop next door?"

"Okay." He was hypnotized. She could have suggested that he go get a root canal and he'd have agreed. Later, when he came back to his senses, he was very glad she didn't suggest a root canal.

* * *

"'Can we do that again?' How cute." Cornelius said, mockingly.

"At least I got a kiss on the first date." Cornelius opened his mouth to say something, but closed it before actually making any noise. "That's what I thought."

* * *

The next Friday, Bell was going to visit the Robinson house. Franny was picking them up from school. Wilbur hated that his parents insisted family meet her before he was allowed out alone with her, again. He loved his family, but they could be very overwhelming. He tried his best to prepare her without sounding like he was crazy or joking.

Initially, she didn't see why he thought she needed to be warned about his family. "So you think your family's weird. You're a teenager that's practically your job. Anyway, my family is pretty dysfunctional. I doubt there's whole a lot that could surprise me."

"You have no idea," was his only response. Then he started explaining.

They were in math class. It would be the last time they would see each other before meeting at his locker after school. The entire class was done with their homework for the weekend, already, because Mr. Tobias only assigned five problems and then allowed them to work in groups of up to five, so each person took one and shared with the rest of the group. It was a little dishonest, yes, but they had been going over the same concept for three days and everyone knew it well.

Wilbur had succeeded in getting across that Aunt Billie had a toy train collection, their butler, Lefty, had one eye, his mother liked frogs and had few, Gaston had toy cannon, Tallulah always wore interesting clothes, Petunia was crabby, Fritz was slightly afraid of her, Laszlo liked to paint, Spike and Dmitri were twins and his grandparents were weird. And all of this was supposedly a big deal. She also knew who his dad was, and Uncle Art's pizza business was pretty well known, so she got that, too.

"Carl is neurotic? I didn't know that was possible for robots. I though they all had those stiff, logical personalities."

"You'll see."

"I trust you. You know, the way you talk about them, I was expecting your family to be totally out there. Like, I don't know, split personalities or talking to or something."

"Oh yeah. Aunt Petunia is a puppet."

Bell chuckled. "A little predictable, but good," she said in reference to the joke he didn't make. She was confused when Wilbur had a serious, even slightly anxious, look on his face. "You were joking, right?"

"No. She's actually a puppet."

"So you spent five minutes explaining the personality of a puppet?"

"Yeah. She's still a member of the family, just like anyone else." Having grown up with her, Wilbur saw Petunia as whole other person, just with a synthetic body.

Bell looked at Wilbur like she questioned his sanity. In fact, she did question his sanity. She was also pretty sure he was exaggerating. She wondered how much of what he said would actually be true and how much would be muted versions of his story. She had no clue.

* * *

"Yeah, I think the one eye part is really the most notable thing about Lefty." Cornelius teased.

"Because telling her he was a giant, sentient, purple octopus that could live on land would have been so believable."

"Aren't there more animals like that in the future?"

"Not many outside of the ape, feline or canine families and the frogs. Even then, they're pretty rare. They just got the right to vote, though."

"Oh. Interesting."

* * *

The car landed safely in the garage, and the three occupants exited.

"Whoa, you have travel tubes in your house? I thought they were only used for public transportation and large businesses."

"Our house is a large business." Wilbur told his girlfriend.

"No it's not, Wilbur. She'll think that's all your father ever does," Franny chastised her son, "This was the first place they were ever installed. We were the guinea pigs."

"Cool!"

"And bruise causing!" Wilbur repeated her tone. "The first few prototypes were, anyway," he clarified. They traveled up the one that brought them to the living room. When they got there, Lefty was timing another race between Gaston and Billie. This time, the train was smaller, and Billie was actually in it.

"This would be Lefty, Gaston and Billie."

Before Wilbur had even said anything, Bell's mouth was hanging open. "That's a toy train?" was the first thing she managed to actually say.

"One of my fastest," Billie said, leaning out a window so Bell could see her clearly, conductor's hat and all.

"And that's Gaston's cannon?"

"My newest that's big enough to launch me. My favorite is actually the meatball cannon." Bell dared not ask. She wasn't sure what was polite to say about Lefty, so she just walked up and shook one of his tentacles.

"Hi, I'm Clay." Lefty grunted something.

"No, we're fine right now. Thanks." Wilbur answered.

"Clay, that's an interesting name!" Gaston said enthusiastically from inside his cannon.

"It's short for Clarabella. But don't like my real name."

"Sounds okay to me," Billie said, leaning out the window, "But 'Clay' is fine, if that's what you want."

"Can you time our race, I seem to have good luck when new people time us."

"Okay." Lefty handed her the stopwatch, "Ready, set, go!" Billie won by a tenth of a second. "3.4 seconds." Gaston crashed into the wall, this time. It didn't fall on him, but he did fall from it. It looked painful.

"I win!" Billie climbed out of the train and did a little dance.

"Next, time, Billie, you won't be so lucky," he warned.

Wilbur led Bell away from the living room, to his room, so she could put her stuff down and hey could speak in private. She was giving off a "help me!" vibe.

"What was that?"

"That was my family. Some of them, anyway."

"I thought you were exaggerating, back in school. It did not occur to me that you could possibly be understating the truth. Why didn't you tell me Lefty was an octopus? The one eye is hardly noticeable compared to that."

"Would you have believed me?"

She opened her mouth to speak, paused, then conceded, "I guess not, huh? Anything else you want to tell me?"

"Yes, but it's much more fun to show you. So I think I'll go with that." Bell shot him a glare, but realized it might be more fun for her not to have the surprises ruined.

Next on the list was the music room. Wilbur could here the band starting up from outside. Perfect. He opened the door to the bipedal frogs that were singing and playing instruments all being conducted by Wilbur's mom. Bell's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. She grabbed his shirt and brought him close to her and whispered, "This is what you meant when you said your mom 'likes frogs and has a few?'

"Yup."

"Can they talk?"

"Of course. They're perfectly sentient. Some of them are even involved in a campaign to gain voting rights." It made sense to Bell, that if they had the faculties needed, they should be able to vote. "You should see their little bar. It's pretty funny."

Something clicked in Bell's head "Now I get your 'most frogs can't sing' comment."

They stayed until the end of the set and she met Joe, Art, Bud, Lucille and Carl as they had gathered during the performance. Then, Wilbur whisked her off to his father's lab. He knew that they had sort of met already, but he also wanted to give her a tour of the lab, if possible. Sometimes it wasn't though.

On the way they passed Tallulah, Laszlo, Fritz and Petunia, and said a quick "hello". Even knowing Petunia was a puppet didn't prepare her for seeing it in action. Where was that Harley sound coming from? Tallulah had a cute dress, though. She was also impressed by Laszlo's painting equipment.

When they reached the lab, Wilbur knocked on the door in a funny pattern. "I'll be there in a minute, Wilbur," Cornelius called from inside. They had a special knock. Cool. A minute later, he opened the door. There were grease stains, green paint and what looked like confetti all over his lab coat.

"Can we give Bell a tour of the lab?"

"Sure. Nothing dangerous going on. I was just about to take a break, anyway." She was amazed at the whole thing. She couldn't believe one man thought up all this. "Come here, I think you'll like this one."

Bell walked over to Cornelius. Part of her was still in awe that Cornelius Robinson had just spoken to her, so she missed some of what he said. "Can you repeat that, please?"

"Sure. This is an artificial heart," he indicated what looked like a misshapen, beating heart in a glass container filled with a transparent red liquid. "First, we take cells from volunteers, family or even the patients, if there are enough usable cells. Next, we make a scaffold for the cells to grow around that disintegrates once it's placed in the body. It's kind of like a parade float before you put on the flowers. It has to be really porous, so that nutrients can get through, and blood vessels can grow. That's the problem with the heart, there is a capillary for every muscle cell. The goal is 'off the shelf' hearts, like the kidneys, pancreas', bones and other organs they already have. Some day, people experiencing organ failure won't have to wait on lists for months to receive new ones. Some won't even have to take immunosuppresants. There will be no need for someone else's loss."

"Cool." She stared completely in awe. This invention might, one day, save her brother's life. That aside, it was a major advancement in medical science. "Are you working on any other organs?"

"Not right now. Actually nearly thirty years ago I started working on an artificial pancreas because Diabetes Mellitus was such a huge problem, but someone else finished it before me. We have everything but hearts, livers and spinal chords now, anyway."

"That's really awesome, Mr. Robinson. If there's anything I can do to help you, I mean like, help find test subjects or something, just tell me. I can think of at least a dozen people I know who could benefit from this just off the top of my head."

Cornelius smiled at her enthusiasm. "Call me Cornelius, or Neil. The only people who call me Mr. Robinson are my students and business partners. And, while I don't think I'll need your help, I'll keep you posted. At the very least, I can let you in on how things are going, if you want."

Bell looked like Christmas had come early. She was going to have insider info on a Cornelius Robinson invention that would save the lives of thousands, possibly including her brother. Wow. She nodded. "I'd very much appreciate that Mr. Ro- Neil."

Wilbur was happy. He hardly even remembered that his dad was working on an artificial organ. He didn't know which it was, or that it might someday help someone he knew. He was only going to give her the tour because she liked in science, and thought it would be cool. That was lucky.

"Dinnertime!" Franny's voice rang through the house over the PA system. They washed up and headed for the dining room, Cornelius now sans lab coat.

Dinner was the weirdest and most amazing thing Bell had ever seen. The meatball cannon actually shot literal meatballs. Phew. She didn't know what that might have been slang for, but she was sure she didn't want to know. She had always been told to be on her best manners when she was a guest at someone's house (she rarely used said manners at home), only for once, it seemed more polite not to use them. What was the polite way to react to a food fight, anyway? She cracked up when Cornelius and Art actually stood up on the table and began fencing.

Franny's car landed twenty feet from Bell's door, but Wilbur 'walked her home' anyway. He hadn't had a chance to be alone with her since before she met the frogs. They paused at her door. "So? Repulsed or intrigued?" he asked referring to his family.

"Intrigued," she kissed him, "definitely. Goodnight."

* * *

"What were you so worried about?" Cornelius asked his son.

Wilbur looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Very funny."


	6. Mickey

A/N: Wilbur gets a little OOC in this chapter. Don't worry, he'll be back to his old self in the next one. And, yes, Bell has a bit of a split personality- it comes into play later. Also, this chapter revolves around Bell's brother. So does her life, so this also comes into play later.

* * *

Bell and Wilbur were supposed to have their fifth date after school on Friday. Nothing really special. They were just going to skate to the mall and hang out for a while. Wilbur went to meet Bell at her locker. He laughed, as always, at the graffiti scrawled across her locker door and the one next to it. Reading them together, though it was obvious they meant to be several messages, it read "Ethan is you're sharks nerd Katie loves splitting rule Mike telephone tactics suspended smarter says light next controlled subset can late." Most of it was in a giant heart. There were also some four-letter words thrown in there but Wilbur left them out as he thought they made it less funny. He knew it was juvenile, but he still liked it.

Bell had been held up, and when she came by, she was on her cell phone. When she saw Wilbur and the stupid expression on his face, she smiled. "Okay, mom, love you. Bye." She said into the phone before she hung up. "Still amused by the graffiti, I see." She looked kind of sad, though.

"Guilty."

"I've got bad news. We can't hang out today, I have to watch Mickey." Wilbur had never met Bell's brother before. Well, he had briefly seen him a couple times, but never for more than a few minutes. He was actually very curious about him. Between Bell's stories and what he saw, he could tell Mickey was like no one he had ever met (which was very rare considering his family and all the normal people at school).

"I know he doesn't like strangers, but could I watch him with you? One more person could only help, right?" He wasn't as interested in helping as he was in hanging out with Bell, but there was some of both.

"I guess you could, but I won't be able to pay much attention to you."

"I don't mind. I kind of want to see what he's like and what it takes to take care of him." A partial truth.

"Okay."

Bell's mom picked them up. Mickey was already in the car as his school got out twenty minutes earlier. Allyson sat in the front, looking miserable and green. "Mom, Wilbur's gonna help me watch Mickey, okay?"

"If Mickey's okay with it."

"Mickey, can I come over to your house today?" Wilbur asked, ready to climb into the car. Mickey nodded, but didn't even look up from the video game he was playing. Wilbur looked at Bell, who nodded, and got in the car.

In no time, they were at the Woods residence. It took a minute to get Mickey out of the car, though. Wilbur carried a small backpack with an oxygen tank in it, while Bell got his school stuff and helped him out of the car. Even though he was seventeen, his growth was stunted, so he looked to be about nine or ten, and was very thin. While this was probably a bad thing, it apparently had its advantages, Wilbur noticed, in transportation. Mickey was climbing out of the car mostly on his own but Bell became impatient and picked him up. "Hey!" he objected to being lifted off the solid floor. Wilbur had never heard him speak before, and until now, wasn't sure he could. Bell's stories occasionally involved Mickey "saying" something, but Wilbur figured it was sign language, as he had seen Mickey sign something, once.

"We need to hurry," she told him as she set him down on the ground in front of their house, "Allyson has to get to the doctor." The three of them walked up the little pathway to the front door.

"Allyson's sick? Weird. Usually, I'm the one that gets sick and has to go to the doctor. Will she be in the hospital? Will she be on oxygen?"

"I don't know, Mickey. I don't think so." When they got in, Mickey took the oxygen line from around his face. "You get thirty minutes, Mickey. Then the oxygen goes back on."

"Okay."

Wilbur was confused. "Shouldn't he have it on all the time?"

"He gets a few breaks throughout the day. If he has it on all the time, it makes him more likely to get pneumonia. He hates wearing that thing, so he's happy for any breaks he gets. I can't blame him. When we're home, he's basically tethered to the oxygen concentrator behind the couch. Luckily the line is long."

"Oh. How long does he get to have it off in a day?"

"Depends. If his blood O2 level is low, maybe five minutes or no breaks all day. If he's doing really well on his own, he can get up to three or four hours off. On a very rare occasion, he won't need it as long as he's awake."

"How can you tell his oxygen level is low?" He was hoping it had nothing to do with needles, and he hadn't seen Bell do anything, really, before deciding he got half an hour off.

"Well, I can usually tell by how he acts and moves." Wilbur was confused by this. How could you tell something like that just by looking at someone? "Sometimes it's hard to tell or he objects to putting it back on, so I use this little machine," she took what looked like a wide, short, black clothespin, with a small LCD display out of Mickey's backpack. She demonstrated by putting the clothespin on her finger. A very bright red light radiated from her finger, and after a second, two numbers showed on the display. "The 98 is my blood oxygen level. The highest possible is 100 and anything above 96 is normal. The 80 is my heart rate."

"Does that hurt?"

She took the clothespin off, took Wilbur's hand and stuck it on his thumb. There was no pain, It apparently measured that stuff through the light. Wilbur's heart rate was 95. He figured his heart rate probably rose when she put the thing on, as he was afraid it would hurt. Or his heart rate was just raised, a little, whenever he was that close to her.

A little while later, Mickey had to put the oxygen line back on. Bell showed Wilbur the oxygen concentrator behind the couch. It looked like a very complicated air filter with a couple switches, a knob and a gauge with the numbers one to eight on it, with a mark in between each number to signify a half. "The numbers are the liters of O2 he's getting per minute. Right now, he's at one, but he's doing well, so it might go down to one half. She looked at the clock. "Oh, he should be getting some meds in a few minutes. Come here."

Wilbur followed her to a bathroom with the most crowded medicine cabinet he had ever seen. "Whoa."

"That's all Mickey's. He doesn't need every one every day. Daily, it's only eight, including the special eye drops and inhaled steroid."

"Why so many?"

"Mickey's main illness is a problem with his autonomic nervous system. That controls the stuff in your body that you don't think about, like heart rate, blood pressure, metabolism, breathing, you know, main body functions. Now, for him, some of those things work okay, and some don't and some work okay some of the time. He's got medicine to stabilize his blood pressure, keep him from having constant acid reflux, an anticonvulsant, kidney medicine and a few others. Some of the medicines, though, cause side-effects, so he needs medicines to fix them."

"A fix for a fix? Why don't they just take him off?"

"Because he would get really or sick die. Here, let me explain. Some anticonvulsants don't work on kids with his disease, at all. So there are a limited number of options. Then, some blood pressure medications react badly to the anticonvulsant he's on so there are a limited number of them. It kind of keeps going like that. It's a crazy balancing act. I don't know how my parents keep track of it all. I mean, the schedule alone is nuts. This one, she picked up a bottle, has to be taken three times a day, all at least three hours after eating and no more than one hour before. And that one," she pointed to another, "has to be taken for times a day, never less than two hours after the one in my hand, or he gets sick. Some can be taken together, but there are three or four with those crazy rules. And his meds and dosages change all the time, because some of them stop working, or the symptom disappears, or something. I'll never get how my parents deal with all this."

She was so impressed with her parents, but did she not realize that she kept it all straight, too? Wilbur thought the whole thing sounded like a nightmare. He could not imagine someone's life depending on him like that. "Why don't they just replace the damaged organs?"

"Because the problem isn't so much the organs themselves. It's the regulation system. That's what has to be done with medicine. Actually, the poor regulatory system does take a toll on a bunch of his organs, but it's a slow process."

She took a syringe (not a needle, just a 10cc syringe) and filled it with a yellow liquid, and she put it along with an empty one in a small case that resembled a pencil case. Then he followed her to the kitchen, where she filled a glass with water, and filled the empty syringe from the cup.

"You might not want to see this. Some people think it's gross," (A/N: skip this if you're squeamish.) she told Wilbur before yelling, "Mickey, come here!" He entered a few moments later, oxygen line trailing behind him.

Wilbur knew he should probably turn around, but he wanted to see what was going on. Mickey lifted his shirt and Wilbur saw a plastic tube sticking out a few inches above and to the left of his belly button. Bell looked up at Wilbur questioningly, then back at Mickey. She removed the cap from the tube, took the syringe with the medicine, inserted the point into the tube and squirted it in, then she removed that one and did the same thing with the water-filled one. "It goes straight into his stomach. He has trouble swallowing." Wilbur did think it was gross, but he'd seen worse. It wasn't like you could see the contents of his stomach, anyway. "It also how he gets most of his food. He eats a little, but not much."

Mickey looked embarrassed. It was pretty clear that he didn't like it being a big deal. "So he never has to taste Brussels sprouts?" Wilbur asked. Mickey shook his head, "Can I have one?" This made Mickey smile.

"You're pretty cool," he told Wilbur. Smart kid.

Bell looked like you could have knocker her over with a feather. "He never talks to new people. It usually takes about a week or two."

"I'm getting over that." Mickey told her matter-of-factly.

"Good," she said as she ruffled his hair, "It's about time."

"Anyway, you talk about him all the time, so it's like I know him, already, anyway." Bell blushed. This was a good sign. She signed something to Mickey.

"Sorry," he told her, but he rolled his eyes. Wilbur decided he had to learn sign language.

* * *

"So they don't have a cure for his disease, yet?" Cornelius felt a little bad about that. He wished he could fix everything, sometimes.

"No. I'd definitely argue the future is a better place to live, but life will never be perfect. Bell once told me if he had been born twenty years earlier, he probably wouldn't have lived past age five. His life was made easier and longer by scientific advancements. It's a rare disorder anyway, so maybe your time would be better spent doing things that benefit more people." He really didn't want his dad to feel bad about this.

"I guess."

* * *

After receiving medicine, Mickey went to his room. Bell and Wilbur followed him, to keep an eye on him. It wasn't that he needed constant supervision, it was just that today Bell felt that she was more likely to be distracted. Which would make accidents and slow response times more likely. Wilbur was even more anxious. He didn't want to be responsible for something bad happening and he imagined Mickey to be more fragile than he was.

Wilbur and Bell sat down at a small table that they were too big for. Mickey was getting too big for it, too, but he wasn't ready to give it up yet. Mickey sat on his bed playing with a Mickey Mouse action figure dressed like a pirate and some dinosaurs. This reminded Wilbur of his younger self and made him smile. Pirate dinosaurs were awesome.

Bell and Wilbur chatted for a while i.e. Bell chatted while Wilbur sat pretending to listen. A little while later, Mickey put away the action figures and took a small chapter book off of his shelf. "Do you want me to read that to you?" Wilbur asked, hoping to get further on the boy's good side. Mickey just looked at him with blank expression.

"He can read, you know," Bell told Wilbur. Wilbur had no clue what to say here. Should he lie and say that he knew, but wanted to read it to him anyway? Or should he tell the truth that he didn't think Mickey could read because he was mentally challenged and hope it didn't hurt the boy's feelings?

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"Why wouldn't I read? I have books. What do think they're for?"

"I'm just going to borrow Wilbur for a minute," Bell interrupted as she pulled Wilbur into the hall. "He can read, write, speak English, knows fluent American Sign Language and can count to ten in Spanish and French. He's not completely incapable."

"Sorry. It's just- I guess I've never met anyone who was mentally challenged before."

"Well, some mentally challenged people can't read. Some can't even talk. But there are people of varying levels of abilities under the category. Mickey is in eleventh grade and reads at about a fifth grade level, meaning he is significantly impaired but not _completely_ inept. You might not want to assume so much in the future," she said indignantly.

Wilbur felt cornered. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to offend. I was just trying to help."

Bell sighed. "It's not you I'm mad at." Wilbur silently celebrated the fact that he was off the hook. She continued, "It's society. I know the world is a much better place than it was in the past and there are fewer people who are sick or challenged like my brother, but sometimes I feel that just marginalized people with disabilities even more. I'm sorry. You _were_ just trying help. I'd rather people try to help than just ignore a problem. Any problem." She hugged him. Wilbur, confusedly, hugged back. So he _hadn't_ done anything wrong, right? Wilbur had, once again, successfully hoisted himself out of trouble.

* * *

"You got lucky."

"I totally did that one myself. That whole apology-thing worked like a charm."

Cornelius shook his head and changed the subject. "Actually, I don't get it. You always describe her as weird and crazy, but she was pretty serious right there."

"It _was_ weird. She was a different person. I guess when she watched Mickey, she didn't have that luxury, you know? Maybe that's why she was so crazy out of the house."

Cornelius looked at Wilbur like he didn't know him. This whole last glimpse of him was very un-Wilbur-like. He had been serious, mature and empathetic, instead of laid-back, immature and cocky.

What had this girl done to him?

* * *

PS: The thing I was trying to describe --how Mickey was given medicine-- is called a G-tube. Google it, it's really not gross.


	7. That Sucks

A/N: Vixen's Shadow: I love you. All of the yous. Thank you for consistently reviewing, I really appreciate your input. To other people, please review. I cannot correct what I am doing wrong if I don't know what that is.

Also, it'll probably be a week before the next chapter is up in this story. Sorry, I have a lot of work to do, now.

* * *

They had been together about eight months, when Bell had to go to a wedding. Neither she, nor her sister, had anything to wear. Their mother could only be in one place at once, so she could only help one of them shop, and they also had to bring Mickey along. Naturally, Bell dragged Wilbur along. He didn't quite understand why, as he knew nothing about dresses and surely would hate the experience. He would have asked Tallulah to come along, or even make the dress, but she was off at fashion week in Spain. Stupid Spain. Actually, he was pretty sure Bell took him mostly for the purpose of torturing him. Oh well. He brought a few good books.

"Bur, how do I look?" He looked up from the screen of his e-book reader, "Be honest, does this dress make me look fat?" Bell was not fat (despite what the nickname might imply). She wasn't really skinny, either. She had curves, a fact that Wilbur very much appreciated. But she was nowhere near fat. She was wearing a pastel yellow sleeveless V-neck dress with an embroidered flower pattern toward the bottom. She looked okay, but it wasn't really her color.

Knowing that he could get away with just about anything at this point, Wilbur responded, "No, your fat makes you look fat." Her jaw dropped and the other women around were all staring at him. Oops, too far. He was formulating creative ways to apologize when Bell started cracking up. Then she doubled over, she was laughing so hard. Phew.

"That's a new one." She walked over to him and gave him a peck on the lips. "You know, that was pretty risky."

"I know. But where's the fun if I always play it safe? I mean if I always told you how amazing you are, you'd get used to it, and it wouldn't mean anything anymore."

"Point. Really, how do I look?"

"You look fine." She made a disappointed hum-like noise. "What's wrong?"

"I wasn't going for fine. I was going for stunningly gorgeous."

"Well then you might want to consider putting on some makeup." She slapped him lightly across the face. He pretended to be hurt and brought a hand to his cheek. This was not unusual for them.

"I guess it's time for the next one." She disappeared behind the curtain of the dressing room. Wilbur got back to his book. She reemerged in what was probably the ugliest piece of clothing he'd ever seen. It looked awful on her. It was a hot pink mermaid-skirt dress olive green chiffon ruched at the bust. It was gathered around the waist in such a way that it actually did make her look fat, a little. He had no clue what he was supposed to say here. Then she started laughing again. He was sure, now, that she brought him along just to torture him.

"Can you believe they're trying to get money for this? It was bad on the rack, but it's somehow worse when it's on!" Wilbur failed to see what was obviously so hilarious. "Fine. You don't get it because they do this to guys." Uh-oh. Had he incurred droning and bitter feminist rant by remaining silent a moment ago? "I guess we only make it worse by either buying into or perpetuating it by impressing it on each other. Seriously, though, I don't get it. Maybe someday it'll be different," she ended her speech. Crisis averted. Though Wilbur made a note to respond with indignation, however feigned it would have to be, next time.

"I'll go try on the next one. I think it's the last one for this store." Wilbur wasn't sure if that was good or bad. It meant they had made progress, but it also meant that there was at least one more store-full of this coming up. She disappeared again.

Ah, back to the book. He was at a very interesting spot. Albert had challenged the Count to a duel, but Mercedes had just convinced him not to kill her son. A duel had to end in death, no? But there was a lot of book left, and it was called _The Count of Monte Cristo_ so he couldn't die, right? Was he going to shoot the son of the woman he loved after promising not to? Apparently, Wilbur would have to wait a little longer to find out as Bell appeared.

Wilbur looked up. His jaw dropped. She had achieved her goal. She was wearing a light blue double spaghetti strap, flowing A-line dress with an empire bodice. It went just below her knees and did a great job of accentuating her legs. She looked doubtful, though. "Well?"

"I think you may upstage the bride." Of course he only thought this because she was his girlfriend. She did look good in the dress, but others wouldn't see the same thing he did.

She smiled. "Fine by me. My stupid cousin used to be a total bitch to poor Mickey. And now she thinks she hot stuff because she's getting married to some rich guy. Last time I spoke to her, she treated me like I was a dog."

"Well, some people don't know how to talk to little kids…" Wilbur tried to offer. He could imagine Bell being very rude at the wedding to spite this girl. Also, the visual was a little distracting from the words.

"It was two months ago, and I was doing her a favor. But was she thankful? No."

"Why are you even going, if you hate her so much?"

"Because I love my grandparents and I don't get to see them very often. Also, the best man is a riot." She added under her breath, "and he's adorable."

"I heard that." Wilbur didn't feel threatened, though. He knew Bell liked him enough not to do things with other guys. He was a catch, after all. Also, the best man was probably way to old to try anything with Bell.

"Anyway, the fact that I don't like her means that I have more incentive to go." Huh? "You know, so I can show her that I can be the better person and still be happy for her despite all she's done, even though I won't actually be happy. If I don't go, she wins." Wilbur wasn't even going to try to comprehend that.

* * *

"You called her fat, in public no less, and survived?"

"She laughed. What can I say? I'm just that good." Cornelius raised an eyebrow at his son. "Actually, now that I think about it, maybe that's how we stayed together so long."

"Because you called her fat?" Cornelius did not follow Wilbur's logic.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Victoria broke up with you because you said something that hurt her, right?"

"Yeah."

"Bell and I said that sort of stuff to each other all the time," he said as though it made perfect sense.

"I'm still missing something."

"We laughed at it. We said all the mean things you aren't supposed to say, but they were jokes and we knew neither really believed it, or it wouldn't have been funny. Also, it was pretty even. I think I heard enough, 'Is this room big enough for your ego?' jokes to last me a lifetime."

"And you accidentally left all those out of your stories."

"They weren't relevant."

"So how did you break up, anyway?"

"Oh, right. That."

* * *

Wilbur and Bell had just "graduated" from middle school, a few days earlier. They were hanging out in his room, with the door slightly ajar, as per Franny's rule. She had just told Wilbur she was going to be moving about an hour away (by car, fifteen minutes by airplane or class one spaceship) in a few weeks. She sat on his bed while he sat in his chair, feet resting on his desk.

"I hate it!" she said as she punched the mattress, lightly, "I don't want to go. Stupid Mickey and his stupid disease."

"I still don't get it. If the specialist is only an hour away, why do you actually have to move? Why don't they just take him the hour there and back?"

"Because you can't do that in an emergency. When every minute counts, an extra sixty could easily be deadly."

"But how often does that even happen? Seems a little extreme."

"Well, four years ago, he had three such emergencies in the entire year, about average for him. You know how many he's had in the last school year, alone. He's had eleven in the last full year. He's getting sicker. I mean, I'm glad they could wait at least until Ally and I finished middle school. You and I would probably be going to different high schools anyway. But I still don't want to leave."

"We can still visit each other and stuff. I mean, an hour isn't that long. I can probably get Uncle Art to drive me there, anyway. It's not too far."

"Yeah, I guess. But what about my other friends? I know not all of their parents are going to waste two hours in transit on top of the time we will be visiting."

"It sucks, I know." He walked over to where she sat on the bed and took her hands in his. "How about we don't waste our last three weeks together worrying about how much the future might suck? There are so many other things we could be doing that are so much more fun."

She raised her head to look him in the eye and raised an eyebrow, but she knew what he meant. Ten minutes later they were wearing hooded jumpsuits and were deeply entrenched in a green jello and spaghetti fight with Gaston and Laszlo. Green was the best jello for such fights, or so Laszlo swore. Of course, about ten minutes after the fight ended they were back in his room making out on his bed.

* * *

"So she moved. You're right. that wasn't your fault. But weren't together for a whole year, just a school year- you lied. By the way, please spare me any physical details in the future." Cornelius shuttered. No one wants to think of their children doing that sort of thing. He also made a mental note not to mention any of that stuff in any of his stories in the future.

"One, chill out. Two, we didn't break up when she moved. Her parents drove her over every couple weeks, and you, Mom and Art had no problem transporting me to her place a couple times a week during the summer, and most weekends during the following school year. It only took you guys fifteen minutes, anyway. Plus, all phones have visual displays now, anyway, so we could still talk and see each other all the time."

"Okay, so what was the actual problem?"

"I'm getting to that." He was stalling, actually. "I'm just warning you, it's kinda sad."

"Well, yeah. All break-ups are sad. Just get to it." Cornelius was getting impatient. This stupid story was taking forever. He looked at the clock and realized he should have been asleep an hour ago. Oh well.

* * *

Wilbur's phone rang. "Hi, Bell," he answered cheerfully. She hadn't called in a couple days, nor had she returned his calls, but this happened to both of them sometimes when either was busy. It was early November and school was in full swing, so they both had plenty to do. He was very excited to hear from her.

"Hi, Wilbur." Uh-oh. She called him 'Wilbur'. Something was wrong. Not to mention she didn't look or sound very happy. "Um," she paused, then started crying. Crap. She took a breath and started speaking again. "Mickey died," she blurted out, seemingly without emotion. What? When did this happen? How? He wasn't that sick, was he? What was Wilbur supposed to do here?

"Oh God. I'm so sorry, Bell." Was he supposed to call her that? She used his full name, but she hated her name. Maybe he should have called her 'Clara' or something.

"Thanks."

"Are you doing alright?" What was he saying? Of she wasn't alright. Her brother just died!

"I think I'm holding up okay right now. It hasn't really sunken in, yet. They just declared him less than an hour ago."

"Oh. Is there anything I can do? I can be over there in fifteen minutes."

"No. Right now, I just want to be with my family."

"Okay. Well, if you think of anything, just call me, okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

Wilbur was upset, of course, but more than that, he was dumbfounded. How did this happen? Wilbur had just talked to him last week, and he didn't seem that sick. "Um, I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but," he paused, then proceeded cautiously, "how did it happen?"

She looked a little relieved, actually. Maybe she wanted to talk about it. "He had a really bad seizure and just didn't wake up. He's been in a coma for two-and-a-half days. His heart stopped twice, so my parents signed a DNR, and it stopped again, eventually. That's it. It feels weird because it's almost like we decided when it happened." She started tearing up and her voice cracked a few times, but she was able to finish.

"That really sucks. I'm really sorry. I'm gonna miss him." He didn't have many phrases ready, for this situation. Being sorry seemed the only natural thing to say. He had never experienced the death of someone close, before.

She just nodded. She had finally lost her voice.

The next few weeks were very hard on the both of them. She didn't invite him, or come over very, often, anymore. Nor did she talk on the phone as much. Even when they were together, she didn't talk much. She just wasn't into much of anything, anymore. Her energy was gone. She was depressed. Diversion. That's what she needed, according to Wilbur. He tried and tried to cheer her up. He hated seeing her like this. Sometimes, she smiled, laughed, or agreed to do something fun, but he failed more often than he succeeded.

She just wasn't the same person he knew and loved. They started arguing more. She didn't have a sense of humor about herself anymore, and she didn't make fun of him, either. When something hurtful was said, it wasn't laughed about, it stung. Wilbur avoided using that tactic on purpose, but he chose the wrong words, sometimes. He hoped he could get her back, someday. The fact that he couldn't just fix it and be over with it really frustrated him.

One afternoon, she came over to his house. After a couple of hours of hanging out not doing much of anything she asked him, "Bur, can I talk to you?" She looked kind of nervous.

"Yeah. Of course." He knew what was coming. He hated it, but he couldn't think of anything else to do.

"I'm really sorry. I know I've been a total wet blanket for the past month or so."

"It's okay. I understand. You don't have to feel bad about it."

"I know, but I do. I just," she paused and closed her eyes, "I can't do this anymore." She reopened them, "I'm sorry. I just feel like I'm pretending when I'm with you. We need to stop seeing each other." She was breaking up with him. He couldn't blame her. She wasn't happy and it seemed she just didn't have the energy for him anymore. They could still be friends, right?

Wilbur wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. "It's okay. I understand." It really wasn't okay. He understood, but it wasn't fair. Her brother dies, so he loses his girlfriend. He had never felt like more of a failure in his life. Boyfriends were supposed to make this sort of thing easier, right? But it was obvious that being in a relationship was just making her life harder.

He stood up, and hugged her. That's okay, right? She hugged back and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm really sorry about this. You are a really great guy. You don't deserve this. You've been so wonderful to me," she paused and tears started running down her face. She had more to say but Wilbur took the opportunity provided him to talk.

"It's alright. Really. I get it. You don't have to keep explaining. You do know I'm gonna keep bothering you, right? You're still my friend."

She nodded, and hugged him again. Her phone rang. It was her father. "I should probably go now. Bye."

He walked her out to her dad's car and they hugged one last time. "Bye." They took off into the sky and quickly disappeared behind a cloud. He walked back to his room and threw himself angrily onto his bed. This was going to suck.

* * *

"Oh. You're right. That was sad."

"Yeah. But it could have been worse. I mean, it could have been her that died."

Cornelius was surprised by his friend's morbidity. "Yeah, I guess," he answered slowly, "I don't quite get it, though. You didn't have to break up just because her brother died."

"It wasn't just that. Her whole life revolved around him. Suddenly that was gone. On top all the depression stuff, which amounted to a lot, she kind of went through an identity crisis. Plus, we were 400 miles apart."

"Oh. That sucks. Are you guys still friends, at least?"

"Sort of. We still talk on the phone sometimes. She's not depressed anymore, but she's still a different person. We get along okay, I guess. It's even stranger now that her parents are divorced."

"Oh. I see." Cornelius felt very down. Hearing about such misfortune, just when he was gaining so much in his life, made him feel weird. Wilbur had told him the truth, earlier. The world would never be perfect. But he didn't like it. He decided he would just have to do as much as he could to change it and not worry about the rest. "It's getting late, and you have school tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Alright then, bedtime." Wilbur hated it when young Cornelius pulled a 'dad' thing like he had just done. "You're supposed to ask that girl out, tomorrow, right? You need your rest."

"I came here for advice. I'm not leaving till I get it."

"Don't have any. Sorry. Bye." Cornelius started pushing Wilbur to the door. Really, he was tired. True, he didn't have school the next day, but he should get to sleep before the sun rose, anyway.

"Alright, but we're not done here. I want to hear all your failed romance stories," Wilbur said as though it was all very entertaining. Cornelius did not look amused. "To learn from them," he added casually, "What did you think I meant?"

"Fine. Six months from now, in both of our times. Same time, same place." Cornelius secretly hoped Wilbur would forget about it. At least he didn't have to think about it for a while.

"Gotcha. See ya, then." Cornelius pushed him out the door, closed it and locked it. He heard Wilbur say from the other side, "Goodnight."


	8. Relax

A/N: I had a lot of trouble with this chapter a.k.a. two papers and fiction writer's block (and yet I had no trouble writing about the neurological development of preschoolers). I have a few funny stories for this couple for later, but this one's kind of lame. All the chess tournament stuff is based on my father's experiences with local events from about forty years ago. If I have it totally wrong, sorry.

Vixen: I still love you(s). This one won't be sad, I promise.

Other people: Please review. I miss them.

* * *

It was 3pm on a Sunday and now sixteen year-old Wilbur had just finished cleaning his room while his mother watched to be sure Carl wasn't the one who ended up doing it. It was rather embarrassing. He was supposed to visit his father 28 years ago, later tonight. But he wanted to get out of the house, now. He'd waited six months, why should he have to wait another few hours?

So, after sneaking quietly to the garage, he climbed into the machine and off he went. This time, he didn't bother with the front door. After flying over it briefly, Wilbur saw movement in the lab, so he climbed in through a window.

Cornelius was working on a large, circular machine, about five and half feet tall and five feet in diameter. He was kneeling inside the machine's frame, screwdriver in hand, working on something. A plethora of other parts and tools were scattered around his workspace.

Wilbur sat silently for a moment, wondering if his father would ever notice he was there. Apparently he wouldn't "Yo, Captain Oblivious!"

"Huh?" Cornelius, who had been completely engrossed in what he was doing, looked up to see his future son sitting at his desk, feet resting dangerously close to an important piece of his current project. "Oh. You're early."

"Just by a few hours. You thought I'd forget, huh?"

"One can only hope."

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad."

Cornelius stood up and walked out of the machine, hitting his head on the way out. "Ow!" He rubbed the spot on his head that had collided with the metal, "Why did I make the stupid frame so short?"

After seeing his father stand up, Wilbur understood it, "Maybe because you were a foot shorter when you started building it." His father had grown quite a bit, as nearly seventeen year-old boys frequently do. Last time they met, Cornelius was at most a half-inch taller than his son. Since then, Wilbur had grown a couple inches, himself, but now his father towered over him. He was now almost as tall as would be when he stopped growing. "So, how's the weather up there?"

"That's a new one," Cornelius said sarcastically. He'd heard it at least a dozen times in the last week alone. "I thought you'd be more creative than that." They began their journey from the lab to Cornelius' room.

"You can't beat a classic."

"Right, whatever. I assume you're here so we can torture each other, no?"

"You got it. What was your next disaster? Don't be shy."

"I may as well get it over with, huh? It was a couple years ago. I was fifteen-" Wilbur cut him off.

"Wait, so you didn't date anyone after Victoria for two years?"

"A year and a half."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Did you get turned down, a lot?" Wilbur said in attempt to sound sympathetic, but failing to mask the hope in his voice. He was looking for ammunition.

"No. I didn't ask."

"But you did have a crush. Come on, 'fess up."

Cornelius did not look amused. "Fine, I did. For a long time, too. But it wasn't gonna happen, so I didn't bother trying." That type of defeatist attitude did not sound like the Cornelius Wilbur knew. He had to be hiding something.

"Why do you say that? You're not one to give up before you start."

Cornelius could tell that his friend was not going to drop this. His options were lie, or tell him. Wilbur could always tell when Cornelius was trying to conceal the truth, so he might as well come out with it. "She was in the same graduate program as me."

Wilbur could hardly conceal his laughter, "So she was older than you, huh?"

"Yeah."

"How much, you have to tell me."

"Well, I was fourteen and she was hmmfrmm," he mumbled the last part.

"What's that? How old was she?"

Cornelius hesitated, and then told him, "Twenty five." Wilbur burst out laughing.

"Oh, thank you. That was good. You know, I never imagined you'd go for older women."

"It wasn't funny at the time. I ended up, by no choice of my own, working with her for an entire year. She got engaged halfway through; only two weeks after she figured out I liked her. It sucked."

This, of course, only made Wilbur laugh harder. "Oh _man_, that is good." He slapped his thigh. "Seriously man, engaged?" he could barely speak through his laughter,

"Priceless." There were tears in his eyes. After a minute, though, he started to calm down.

At that moment, Cornelius decided that he would not spare Wilbur certain details of his next story that he had planned to leave out. This might be fun. "I'm glad you find it so amusing."

* * *

Cornelius, at fifteen years old, entered a chess competition. It was just a local event that he was participating in for fun, nothing special. His mother and father had something important to do that morning, so they had to drop him off pretty early, but they promised they'd be there before it was over (if he was still in it). He registered, then sat down in one of the many chairs lining the perimeter of the room and took out his notebook. He was working on the travel tubes.

His last crush, Danielle, had told him it was impossible. He knew that the future he saw wasn't predetermined, but he was still sure he could do it. He had to, if only to prove her wrong. He wasn't totally over her, yet, obviously. She had been so nice to him in the beginning. He really thought they could be friends. That was all he really wanted. Well, he did wish the circumstances had been slightly different. But knowing that a relationship was not possible, and resenting his feelings for her, he still thought they should have been able to maintain a casual friendship. But she was so rude to him after she found out. It was even worse after she got engaged. She constantly rubbed it in his face. She was probably hoping that he'd get over it so she wouldn't have to feel so uncomfortable. She ended up hurting his feelings pretty badly.

Slowly, the room started filling up. He looked at his watch. The competition was supposed to start in forty minutes. A blond girl in a blue sweater, whom Cornelius guessed was around his age, sat down in the chair to his right. "Whatcha got there?"

Cornelius looked up. "Oh, this is just a notebook where I keep ideas for stuff I invent," he said, rather uninterested. He wanted to get back to the problem.

"You invent stuff? Cool! What have you invented? Anything interesting?"

"Um, I don't know what you'd consider interesting, but my favorite one so far is the memory scanner."

"You invented that? No way!"

He was very close to telling her to shut up and go away as he was busy, but he couldn't bring himself to be that rude. "Yeah, that was me. I'm Cornelius, by the way" He held out his hand. Even though he'd looked up from the book earlier, he just now noticed that she had pretty, green eyes behind her thick glasses.

She shook his hand and told him, "I'm Waverly. So what do you do aside from invent stuff?"

"Not much, actually. I read a lot and hang out with my friends. As an afterthought he added, "And I'm working on my Master's degree in physics."

"Whoa. Master's degree? You must be really smart. I'm still undergrad." He couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "Really. I was home schooled until now. I just started in September, though. I'm double-majoring in math and poli-sci. and minoring in Russian. Here, I thought I was smart."

Cornelius had never met anyone else his age in college. It was kind of neat. Not that the situation was bad, at all, it was just unusual and made fitting in with and meeting peers a little harder. "Political science?" Cornelius shuddered. "If there is one thing I don't understand, it's politics. Nobody ever believes what the politicians say, anyway, so what's the point?"

"Then maybe you should study it. You can't figure something out if you don't work on it." This was true. It was also true that sitting in a classroom and being lectured on politics sounded like a form of cruel and unusual punishment to the boy.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll work on it when I can actually vote."

"You know, it's not as bad as everyone says it is. Most politicians in America keep about 80 percent of their campaign promises, usually their key ones." Here came that tortuous lecture. She just had to convince, him, didn't she? "Never mind. You don't have to look like you're in physical pain, you know. A simple 'let's talk about something else,' would suffice." Oops. "It's okay, I get that a lot. I can be a bit of a know-it-all. So are you into any sports?"

"Not really."

"Oh. I like baseball, even though I can almost never find a team that'll let a girl play. It's the only sport I know of where succeeding three out of ten times makes you a good player. A little better than that and you're great." Cornelius thought it actually sounded good. A sport that embraced failure, huh, he might just look into it. They chatted for a little while longer. She wasn't awful. Cornelius had to admit, though, that he when the time came to actually start the competition, he was glad to be rid of her.

Cornelius won his first game pretty quickly. The next one took a little more time. On his third one, it seemed his opponent choked, and he won even faster than he had his first. His parents showed up during his third game, but they couldn't come into the room where they were actually playing. Afterward, though, he could see them. They were very proud of him to have made it so far, even though he conceded that he hadn't really been challenged much, yet. Two wins later and Cornelius was feeling pretty good. He had not expected to do so well. He hadn't studied much recently, and he usually had a draw or two by now. Not to mention that he wasn't that into the game. It was fun, though.

There were just two more games to go (it was a small tournament). Then he found out his next opponent was miss know-it-all. Lovely. She turned out to be a formidable opponent and Cornelius enjoyed the challenge. Actually, she was very good. She definitely kept him on his toes. He made the mistake, once of looking up at her for a moment. She was really cute when she was concentrating. No. Cornelius had to stay focused. Looking up from the board was a bad idea when playing anyone, much less a cute, know-it-all brat. At one point during his next turn, she looked up at him. Those stupid eyes, again. She was trying to distract him but it wasn't going to work. For a while, Cornelius successfully kept his mind on the mahogany and marble in front of him. They were pretty evenly matched. And then, he made a mistake. She won. But his mistake was not caused by her, or anything, distracting. She had beaten him, fair and square.

"Good game, Cornelius."

"Yeah, good game." There were still twenty minutes to the next game. For some unfathomable reason, he decided to hang out with her. He actually sort of enjoyed it this time. She wasn't as much of brat. It almost seemed like she was trying to make up for beating him. Whatever. After finding out that they went to the same university (both out of convenience as neither was ready to live on heir own), she grabbed his notebook and wrote something down. "It's my phone number. We should hang out sometime. I don't know about you, but my class schedule has a lot of gaps, where I just sit in the library for an hour or two. It'd be nice to have someone my age to chill with."

"Yeah, I guess." Cornelius only had one such gap, twice a week. He didn't mind hanging out with the older students or studying alone in the library, though.

* * *

"A chess tournament. How romantic."

"You're just jealous that I was good enough to pull it off."

"Right. You keep telling yourself that."

* * *

Cornelius was having a particularly stressful day. He had not slept in two days (and even then it was only for three hours); he had dropped a binder with important notes and information, scattering it's contents everywhere, so he had the task of reorganizing the three hundred pages or so to look forward to; and he was still struggling with his design for the tubes. He sat in the campus coffee shop, notebook in hand, with a couple of textbooks spread out on the table. His coffee was cold. Waverly entered the café, and ordered a drink.

After she got her latte, she sat down across from him and gently removed the notebook from his hands. It was about a month after they had first met, and they had met up on campus at least once a week since. Cornelius still did see some of his old friends from middle and elementary school occasionally, but it wasn't until he started meeting up with her that he realized how much he missed social contact with kids his age. She was irritating at first, but he really enjoyed getting to see her, now. "Neil," Oh, and she gave him a nickname, because his name was 'too long to have to keep saying over and over again,' which was sometimes necessary to get his attention. "You need to take a break. Including classes, where you are no doubt learning the concepts to actually create this thing, how long have you been working on it straight?" He looked at his watch. "Be honest."

"Thirty-two hours," he admitted guiltily.

"Yeah, that's not natural. You're never going to figure it out," for a second Cornelius thought she was going to do the same thing Danielle did, "if you keep doing this to yourself. You can only run on all cylinders for so long."

"What do you mean by that?"

She inhaled, as though to speak, then paused. "Here, get your stuff and come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"Just follow me."

"You don't know how to answer questions, do you?" He was tired and apparently it was starting to get to him.

"Apparently not. Sucks for you, huh?"

He gathered all his books, notebooks and binders and stuffed them in his backpack. As he stood up, she grabbed his hand. His stomach flipped. He followed her obediently as she dragged him through the exit and around the sunny campus. She took him to a part of campus he rarely visited, where the social sciences, business and art buildings where. There was a large triangular grassy area with a few trees, some benches and a small fountain.

She let go when they got to a bench under a tree that faced the fountain. Cornelius just stood there for second. She rolled her eyes, "Sit next to me." He did as he was told, but still didn't see what was so great. "Close your eyes and just listen, for a minute. Now, clear your mind. Push every little thought out of your head." Cornelius was constantly thinking up new ideas and found inspiration pretty much anywhere; he never just stopped thinking. The concept of turning his brain off was very foreign. This must have been written on his face because she decided to try a different strategy. "Okay, scratch that. You can open your eyes."

"What are you trying to do, anyway?"

"I'm trying to get you to relax."

"I'm fine, thanks."

"See, this is why I didn't tell you earlier. Anyway, just look at something. One thing, not a person, and just focus all your attention on that." Cornelius chose to look at a squirrel that was heading their way. It was very cute, and pretty fat, as the students and faculty tended to feed the squirrels. He still didn't see the point to this, though. "Take a deep breath and hold it for about three seconds." It sounded slightly condescending to him. "Then exhale as slowly as possible. Do that whole thing twice." He followed her instructions, and was amazed at how relaxed he felt afterward. The tension seemed to just melt away. It was so simple. "It worked, didn't it?" she asked him.

He looked up at her, to speak. "Yeah," he said revealing his initial incredulity. "That's really cool." She was so pretty with the leaves creating patterns of light and shadows across her hair and face.

"I thought you'd like it. You think clearer when you breathe well, anyway. Do that a few times before you get back to work, you'll have an easier time, I promise. What?"

Oops, he was kind of staring, huh? "Nothing. Just," Cornelius had no clue what came over him, next. He wasn't usually impulsive, and the thought was only in his head for a split second before he said it. He just felt so good right then, that he didn't think. "Would you go out with me?"

She smiled, but she looked a little nervous, "Yeah, I'd like that."

* * *

"Dude, that was way too sappy."

Cornelius shrugged, "That's just how it happened. Don't worry it'll improve."

"It had better."


	9. Hidden Mistake

Cornelius was getting ready for his first official date with Waverly. Technically, the next time they saw each other after he asked her out could be considered a date. They met at a planned time and place to spend time with each other. Somehow, though, sitting in the library and talking about math didn't sound very romantic. He preferred to consider tonight their first date. He was pretty nervous, but it wasn't just because it a first date.

He didn't quite understand his feelings for her. She annoyed him so much when they first met. She still did, a tiny bit; but he really liked her. He was happy when she was around and he thought about her all time. He wondered if he didn't ever actually dislike her, but wanted to dislike her because he found prominent aspects of her personality unattractive in most people. He didn't see it like that, anymore, though. She used to talk way too much; but now she was charmingly loquacious and he enjoyed just listening to her, sometimes. She was usually only like that when she was nervous, excited, or didn't know someone very well, anyway. Conversations were much more even, now. She wasn't a know-it-all anymore, either. The boy found himself impressed by her wide breadth of knowledge. He was very good at math and science, was learning a lot about business, and was rather imaginative. Outside of those fields, though, Cornelius didn't know much more than the average kid his age. Waverly was nearly as good as Cornelius was at math, but other than that, she didn't have such a strict specialization. She seemed to know a little bit about _everything_ and she could tell it to you in four languages.

He also understood where she was coming from, more. Her mother forced her into pretty much any extra curricular activity she could find, provided it fit in the girl's schedule and didn't interfere with her private tutoring. Waverly wasn't trying to prove she was smarter than anyone. She just knew a lot of things and lacked the social skills to tell when the correct information was necessary. Cornelius got that way sometimes. When he heard someone say something he knew to be false or misinformed, his first instinct was to correct that person, even if it was a complete stranger, just for his or her own benefit. He just seemed to be a slightly better judge of when to inform people, and he had a narrower field of knowledge, so fewer of such opportunities came up.

Franny was over at his house helping Cornelius get ready. They were going to a concert by the indie band, Ninja Reflex. Waverly had won the tickets a few weeks earlier, and by luck Cornelius had not only heard of the band, but really liked them. His friend Alexis was really into the whole "Indie scene" and Gaston used to be. Cornelius was not, but he happened to like some indie bands he had heard of through his friends and the internet. Franny wanted this to go well because Cornelius seemed to really like the girl. This meant he had to have the proper attire, which was all Franny could really help with. This was why Franny was here. She had borrowed some of Gaston's shirts, though Cornelius was pretty sure it was without her brother's permission.

"Explain to me, again, why you're here?"

"You are so cute when you're confused." Waverly said the same thing, frequently, but it was different when she said it. Waverly seemed to emphasize the 'cute' part, while Franny emphasized the mocking tone. It was still weird. He just stared. She rolled her eyes. "Because you are going to a small intimate indie concert. If it was at a huge stadium, or something, it wouldn't matter. But if you don't want to stick out like a sore thumb, you'll take my advice."

"Why would I wear a shirt with another band's name to a concert?"

Franny groaned. "You don't get this indie cred thing, do you? The point is to prove you're cool by knowing a lot of obscure bands; the more obscure the band is, the better. This band," she held up a blue shirt that said 'Marianus' and had some tour dates on it "doesn't even exist. Gaston wears it as a social experiment. You'd be amazed at how many people tell him how great or awful their music is, but everyone assumes he's really cool."

"Is he sure there isn't a band by that name?"

"He's researched it pretty well. Plus, when you look it up, you get information on the historical figure. Most people are too lazy to wade through all of that, so no one has figured it out yet." Cornelius had to laugh at that. "Anyway, the best thing is to wear a shirt with the name of a band that has a ridiculously obscure connection to the band performing. The lead singer of this one," she thrust a grayish blue shirt into his hands, "wrote some songs with the lead guitarist of Ninja Reflex on their second album in 2004." Cornelius really liked that album. "It's the best choice, but if it doesn't look good on you we'll go down the line."

"Okay." He stood there for a moment, then turned away from her and took off the shirt he was wearing. She laughed.

"Neil," he had also mentioned the nickname Waverly had given him and now others had started using it, "I've known you for three years. We went to the beach at least a dozen times last summer. I've seen you shirtless. You don't need to turn around." He finished changing, and faced her.

"This is different."

She rolled her eyes again. He seemed so hopeless sometimes. "Fine, next time, I'll turn around or leave the room or something. Scratch that. This one looks pretty good on you. It's a good color for your eyes."

"Okay. Thanks." Part of him felt like he really shouldn't, but he had to ask her, "Why did you help me out?"

She looked at him like he'd just said something very stupid. "First, because I'm your friend. Second, I did not endure hours of you talking about this girl for you to screw it up on the first date. Third, I want to meet her. You've said a lot of great things about her, and if half of them are true, I think we'll really get along. If this doesn't work out, I never get to find out how much of that is actually true and how much is just your imagination."

It still seemed very strange to him that she would help him when dating another girl, knowing what he knew. Then again, if he could help her in the same way, he would. He shook his head and tried not to think about it.

* * *

"That is weird."

"I know."

"I was referring to the fact that you had to turn around when you changed even though she'd seen you shirtless before. Seriously, what's with that?"

"It was a different situation. I was changing."

Not that he wanted to think about it, but he had to add, "You know, she's gonna see you naked when you get married."

"Still different."

* * *

Franny stayed a little longer because her ride couldn't get there until about ten minutes after Waverly's dad was supposed to pick Cornelius up. Until then, she tried to keep the boy calm. "Come on. You said she's really awkward, too. I'm sure that as long as you don't do something really wrong on purpose, she'll still like you."

"I know," he replied nervously, letting her know that he wasn't really listening. "What if she's dressed really nicely and I look like a jerk in jeans and t-shirt?"

"She won't be, trust me."

"What if," he was about to finish his fifteenth 'what if' question when Franny got fed up.

"Look! Nothing's going to go wrong. If it does, blame me and try to make it up to her next time. But I assure you, as long as you stay calm and be yourself, you'll have fun and so will she."

The doorbell rang. Cornelius answered it to see Waverly dressed in jeans and a shirt for a different band. She hugged him, then said, "Oh my God!" to greet the boy.

"What?" Cornelius asked fearing something was wrong.

"You look like a normal teenager!" He hoped that was a compliment.

"I could say the same for you."

"Yeah, but I'm with my dad this weekend. I always dress like this when live with my dad. This is a big change for you."

"I had a friend's help."

"Oh. Makes sense. You know that's a really good one. The lead singer from that band wrote some songs with the lead guitarist on Ninja Reflex's second album."

"I know. Franny told me." He sort of indicated behind him as though Franny was in the house, which she was. He couldn't see her but Franny rolled her eyes. It probably wasn't a good idea to start a date talking about another girl.

To the surprise of both Cornelius and Franny, Waverly lit up. "Franny? Is she there? You've told me so much about her and we're running early. If she's there I'd like to meet her."

Franny shook her head and crossed her hands indicating that he should say 'no'. But Franny was behind Cornelius, so he didn't see. "Actually, she is." He opened the door all the way to reveal his friend.

When Franny saw Waverly, she stared for a second, then something clicked somewhere, "Your hair is so cute like that!" Franny told his date. Um, it was down? "Is that your natural color? 'Cause it looks so good on you."

"Yeah, it's natural. By the way, can I steal those shoes sometime? They are adorable." Lovely. They were talking about shoes and hair. They chatted for a few minutes about clothes, shoes, bands and who knows what else while Cornelius spaced out. For a moment, he imagined that Franny would end up going his date for him. He mentally slapped himself when he found the image pleasant.

After a minute, though, Waverly looked at her watch. "Sorry Fran, we have to go now."

"Of course. See ya later, Waves." Waves?

"See ya." She grabbed Cornelius by the hand again, and they walked to her father's car.

Her dad was standing outside the car leaning against it, with his arms crossed, but he was smiling. It was too dark to see what he actually looked like. He turned out to be nice and laid back. After a minute or so of conversation, he decided Cornelius was trustworthy enough to date his daughter (and he had looked the boy up online, and was pleased to find that this was the Cornelius Robinson he'd heard about on the news- that got him a lot of points).

Once they got to the concert, Cornelius was glad he'd had Franny's help with. The concert was great. He and Waverly now had a song, as it was playing during their first kiss. She was a good kisser. Also, he decided making out was both gross and fun. He had a very good time.

* * *

"Um, there was no mistake in there."

"What do you mean? Your last story was about the relationship as whole not just the mistakes you made. I think I deserve the same opportunity. Also, there was a mistake hidden in there, somewhere."

"Huh? What'd you do wrong?"

"You'll find out later." Wilbur did not like that answer. This had better be worth it.


	10. Something Dumb

A/N: This is another, um, boring one. The next one will be funnier. As long as I don't have much work to do (might not last) I'll be able to turn them out faster. I should be working on "A is For" but my muse for that one is temporarily away from me.

In this chapter, Cornelius is based my last ex-boyfriend (who's still my friend and a great guy) and an ex-friend. If you find it unrealistic, talk to them.

Vix: You can call me "fairy" if you want. It is part of my name.

* * *

Cornelius was going to meet Waverly's mother today. They were going to the ballet. Cornelius didn't much care for the art form, himself, and according to Waverly this was her mother's intention. He was supposed to be pushed away by her overbearing mother because he wasn't good enough. If he sat through the thing, appeared to pay attention (and there would be a sort-of quiz), and pretended to enjoy himself, he will have passed test number one. The ballet was Tchaikovsky's "Romeo and Juliet" of which, unbeknownst to Ms. Carlyle, Cornelius happened to enjoy the music, greatly; and would at least be able to comment on it confidently. Also he had an eye for lighting and set design. So the only difficult part would be paying attention to the actual dancers. And not being too bothered by the men in those tights that revealed way too much.

Waverly and her mother apparently lived in a high-end apartment building. When Cornelius and Lucille were approaching her building, Cornelius gave her a call.

She didn't sound very well. "Hi, Neil," she said tiredly.

"Hi. I'm just calling to tell you I'll be there soon. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," she still sounded unwell.

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?"

"Do you have any chocolate?" Cornelius did not usually carry chocolate on him, but there was a convenience store down the block from Waverly's building, and he could ask his mother to drop him off, there.

"I think that can be arranged. Anything else?"

"No. Thanks."

"Alright, I'll see you soon, bye."

"Bye."

Cornelius was pretty sure she liked dark chocolate. He thought it tasted disgustingly bitter, but his girlfriend seemed to like it so that's what he got. He hoped he wasn't mistaken, though. The doorman let him in and he took an elevator to her floor.

Seconds before he got to the door, it opened. A short woman with Waverly's blond hair and jaw structure opened the door. "Hello, you must be Cornelius," she said, obviously feigning friendliness. He shook her hand and she let him in. Suddenly, he felt like he was under a microscope. He could almost feel her scrutinizing his appearance, from his hair (which stayed down for once with the help of both Franny and Alexis, who came over of their own accord), all the way down to his freshly shined shoes. He had never put so much work into his appearance, before. And yet, it seemed by the expression on her face, it wasn't enough. He was toast.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Carlyle."

"I know it's impolite, but my daughter insists that you meet her at her room. Sorry." She walked Cornelius to Waverly's room. He felt like he was doing something terribly wrong just by following her. Oh well. At the very least, he would still be able to see girlfriend every other weekend, when she lived with her dad.

He knocked on the door. "Come in." He entered the room to see his girlfriend lying on her side on her bed (over the duvet) and curled up into a ball. She sat up, but kept her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry. I just feel really gross right now."

"I get it." For some strange reason, Cornelius was used to girls talking about "time of the month" troubles. Many of his female friends talked openly about that stuff when he was there; though he noticed, they weren't so open when other guys were in the room. At first it kind of grossed him out, but he was very used to it by now. "Here's your chocolate."

She lit up, "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! And it's dark! I love you," she said hurriedly, taking the candy from the boy. She stood on her knees on the bed and hugged him, "If I didn't feel like I was gonna puke, I'd so kiss you right now."

"That's okay." While had never experienced it, Cornelius was pretty sure kissing and nausea didn't mix well. He sat next her on her bed and she put her head on his shoulder. "Isn't there something you can take that'll make you feel better? I mean, I don't know from experience, obviously, but Liz, Alex and Franny talk about it, sometimes."

"I did. It took away about 25 percent of the pain and ten percent of the nausea. I still feel gross, though." Cornelius found it both funny and cute that she was so mathematical about it. "Just to be clear though, we're not on a boat now, right?" He felt really bad that she was so sick, though.

* * *

"Ew. You just talk about…that stuff?" Cornelius rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. A lot of girls talk about 'that stuff' with me."

"Why?"

The older boy shrugged. "I'm non-threatening, I guess."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"At first, it did. But I was already used to it by the time I met Waverly. Eventually, I figured as uncomfortable as it made me to hear about it, girls actually have to experience it every month. So I got over it. It's not just girls telling me about their period, either. A lot of people tell me a lot things they don't want to talk about with other people. I get approached for advice all the time. You'd be amazed at the secrets your seemingly ordinary friends keep," he said the last part with a distant, almost disturbed look on his face. Wilbur decided not to ask.

* * *

"If you feel so sick, maybe you shouldn't go. I mean, how much can you enjoy the ballet when you feel like your going to throw up?"

"It's not the show I'm worried about. It's getting there. Any moving vehicle, even elevators make me feel worse when I'm on my period. If I can make it through the car ride without spilling the contents of my stomach, I'll be fine." She really didn't look well, though.

Ms. Carlyle knocked on the open bedroom door. "Honey, we need to leave in fifteen minutes, I do hope you're ready. Then she actually looked into the room and saw her daughter, who was ready to go (save for her shoes, which rested neatly as the foot of her bed), curled up in a ball. "Waverly! You'll wrinkle your dress! Ugh. Do you have anything else you can wear?"

"Mom, I could not care less about that. I am in too much pain to stand up, right now. Who cares if my dress is a little wrinkled?"

"I care. And I don't want this to reflect badly in front of Mr. Katz."

Cornelius was confused. She wanted her daughter to remain in pain so she would look good? It just didn't make sense to him. He also wondered who Mr. Katz was, and why she was trying to impress him.

He knew he shouldn't meddle, as this was a family matter. Also, if he did, it would ensure that Waverly would no longer be able to see him. But he couldn't stand it. She just looked and sounded so pained. He stood up and ventured, "Um, Ms. Carlyle, she really doesn't feel well. Maybe she should just skip the ballet." He tried to say it as politely as possible.

"Oh," she turned to face him, "and I suppose I should just leave the two of you here, in her bedroom, alone and completely unsupervised?" Cornelius had not thought of that part yet, or how bad it would sound. That was not his intention at all, of course. He was more than a little unnerved at how little Ms. Carlyle trusted her daughter. Before he could formulate an answer, Waverly spoke up.

"Dad could come watch us," she offered. Cornelius liked her dad, so this sounded like a wonderful plan.

"You think he's just gonna drop his wife and kids and come running here?" Cornelius did not like where this was headed. He'd just started a fight between his girlfriend and her controlling, judgmental mother. He wanted to blend in with the wallpaper, but didn't work so well as there was no wallpaper and he was standing in the middle of the room.

"First, I'm his kid too. You seem to forget that, sometimes. Second, Becky and the kids are in Tucson, visiting her parents, but Dad's still home. I don't think he'd mind that much." Her mother breathed in and opened her mouth, but Waverly spoke first, "Don't give me any crap about wasting money for the tickets, I know you got them free from a client; and Mr. Katz will be with you so you don't have to go alone."

Ms. Carlyle did not look happy. "Fine," she said in mock concession, "Call him up. But if he can't come here, you're both coming with me. And I want to talk to him if he is coming." Then she left.

Waverly smiled and Cornelius brought her the phone from her desk. After a minute, he heard Waverly speak into the phone, "Dad can you come over and baby sit Neil and me?" she laughed at something her father said, "We're supposed to go see that stupid Romeo and Juliet, again, but I feel gross…I know. Thanks, Dad…Wait, you need to talk to Mom." Outside of the phone she yelled, "Mom! Phone!"

She kept her ear to the phone for a second. Then pressed a little red button and put the thing down. Then she smiled at him, "We won." He was still very nervous. "Calm down. This happens at least twice a day. It's just a little battle of wills. If we had gone and I threw up in the car, she'd be even angrier. Tomorrow, she'll apologize in an attempt to hold onto me."

Just then, Ms. Carlyle came back. "Alright, he'll be here in half an hour. That still means you'll be alone for eighteen minutes."

"Mom, this is the same Cornelius Robinson that you read that stupid article about," this was rather embarrassing, "a week before I met him. Remember, you told me I should be more like him."

"I meant academically focused and creative. You used to dwell on your mistakes. I wanted you to be able to let it go." He really wished he wasn't there to hear this. He wondered if he could escape past his girlfriend's mother who stood in the doorway.

"Mom, we're not going to have sex or do anything else stupid. I promise. We wouldn't even if I wasn't on period and feeling positively disgusting. We're both smarter than that. The question is: can you trust your daughter, whom you raised, for twenty minutes?"

Ms. Carlyle looked positively enraged, but said, "Fine. You can stay. But if there is any evidence of something fishy, you're grounded for two months, at least." Then she disappeared down the hall, again. Waverly closed the door.

"I'm never going to be allowed to see you again, am I?" Cornelius asked.

"Of course you are! Secretly, when she found out I met you, before we were even dating, she started planning the wedding." How nice and creepy. "It's sad that she sees status before the person, but you're way too impressive for her to ever forbid me from seeing you." He hoped she was right.

* * *

"You started an argument with her mother? _I_ haven't even made a mistake _that_ bad."

"It turned out alright in the end. Her mother was very angry at me for a while, but eventually she relented when another of my inventions made news. I don't even remember which one it was, but apparently, science and fame won out over what she perceived as a lack of respect."

"That's not right."

"Not at all. Waverly doesn't live with her mom anymore. It was probably the best thing that ever happened to her."

* * *

After her mother left, Waverly did that little breathing thing she taught Cornelius a couple of times, and leaned against Cornelius again. "I think most of her resistance was that this was supposed to be a double-date sort of thing. It's probably her third date in the twelve years since my parents split up. She's just nervous."

"Oh. I guess I can understand that."

"I do have to admit, though, that as soon as I make enough money, I'm moving out on my own."

"Really?" Cornelius could not imagine wanting to move out. Home was too comfortable. True, his house was about to become more crowded as his uncle, Fritz, was about to move in with Tallulah and Laszlo, so things might change. But he was just too attached to the idea of living with his family. He loved his parents too much to move out before he had to.

"Yeah. I mean, I'd love to just move in with my dad, but that would hurt my mom's feelings too much." At least she was thinking of her, "If I'm living on my own, it doesn't look like I favor either. And he'd be stricter with me than he is now if I lived with him more often, anyway. It's not like I love him more, or anything. He's just a little easier to live with."

"I guess I can understand that."

"Actually, can you leave the room for a minute?"

"Sure." Cornelius was confused, but he left the room and she closed the door after him.

About a minute later, she opened the door. She was wearing pink and blue striped pajama pants with monkeys and bananas on them and a matching blue t-shirt with a drawing of the same monkey on it. Cornelius thought she looked adorable. "Sorry. That dress was just really uncomfortable."

He shrugged, "That's fine. You look really cute, like that. You're always prettier when you're comfortable." He sat on the bed and she lay down with her head in his lap, while he stroked her hair. Despite the fact that she was facing the wrong way, Cornelius quickly had to purge the first image that came to his mind when she put her head down. He wasn't after sex, but he was a teenage boy and could not help thinking about it sometimes. Now was not a good time.

A little while later, Cornelius heard a key in the front door. "Come in, dad," Waverly told him before he could even knock. He walked in.

"Oh wow! You guys are sitting doing nothing. How terrible," her dad joked.

"Oh, you missed it. We already burned down half the apartment when we were smoking pot, then we shot heroin. You know, normal teenage stuff," Waverly responded.

"You sure rebuilt the place pretty quickly."

"That's just my new invention. It can reconstruct pretty much anything. Books, computers, you name it. It clears the air, too."

Completely seriously, Waverly's father told the boy, "Cornelius, if you ever do invent that, I'll take two."

"Two?"

"Knowing my son, I'd need one to reconstruct the other at some point." Cornelius laughed, but started thinking about how he could possibly make machine. He really liked Waverly's dad. He was similar to his own father, only a little less weird. After seeing her mother, it was nice to know she had at least one parent who was mostly sane. Also, her father seemed to really like him.

* * *

"Dude, too sappy again."

"I'm setting up things for later in the story."

"Let me guess, her mom doesn't like you but her dad does. Then you screw up, so she and her dad hate you, but her mom loves you."

"Not even close."

"Someone dies"

"Nope."

"Aliens?"

"Closer."

"Really?"

"No."

"Just tell me."

"You're gonna find it hilarious. It'll be worth the setup, trust me."


	11. The Car

A/N: The next chapter is good. I promise. Well, better than this one.

* * *

A family friend had given Cornelius an old car that barely ran as a project. They thought he'd enjoy fixing it up. He was learning how to drive, as his sixteenth birthday was four months away, so he might actually be able to drive it soon. He, in fact, did enjoy the project. Only, he and his father were already almost finished building a car for him from the ground up, all the while he was thinking up ways to make the thing fly, and leaving that possibility open with his design, so it would need minimal work in the future.

So, the question was, what to do with the other one. He was going to give it to one of those charities, but the thing wasn't worth much as it was, and they probably wouldn't benefit from it a whole lot. He'd rather just donate the money. Okay, really it was just to pretty. It was a '94 Mustang GT Convertible. Yeah, she was older than he was, but he couldn't just let her be cannibalized for parts just because she was past her prime. Really he just couldn't stand to see such a beautiful car's potential wasted.

Then a thought occurred to him. It might be a bit much, though. Waverly was turning sixteen soon; she could use it. Yeah, you don't usually give your girlfriend of three months (well, four and a half by then) a car for her birthday, but if you had the car just lying around, it wasn't a big deal, was it? Plus, maybe it less significant if she helped him work on it (or was that going too far in the other direction?). She had told him, once, that she wanted to learn more about how cars worked before she spent a lot of time driving one. She kept imagining being lost in a desert with a broken car, no cell phone reception, and no clue as to what she should do. What better way was there to learn about that stuff than fixing up her own car from the beginning? After talking it over with his parents, though, he was still unsure.

A few days later, though, when Waverly had playfully stolen one of his shoes and he was chasing her around the house to get it back (which was a little difficult considering he was only wearing one shoe), she ran into the garage. She stopped when she saw it sitting next to the now-finished car he and his father built. "What is that?" she said in awe pointing at the Mustang.

"Oh, that's a car someone gave me to fix up. We're not done yet, though."

"She's gorgeous. Ninety-four Mustang GT Convertible, right?"

"Yeah." He was very impressed that she knew that she knew the model. "How'd you know?"

"My step-mom used to have the exact same one in blue before she and my dad got married. I was never allowed near it, though. Can I touch her?"

Cornelius found that a little strange, but saw no reason not to. "Be my guest," he responded slowly.

She walked up to the black car and marveled at it for a minute. "This is so cool."

"I haven't really decided what to do with her yet since I already have the one my dad and I built. I'll tell you what. You help me fix 'er up, she's yours."

Her jaw dropped. "No." She could not believe her ears. "Really?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

She stared with a look of pure bliss for a moment, then pulled him into the most passionate kiss he had ever experienced. "I love you," she told him euphorically. He just laughed. It was very cute.

A few weeks later, they were both at his place, working on the car. Cornelius thought that there might be something wrong with him, but he found her even more attractive when she was working on the car. There was just something about a girl who was mechanically inclined and didn't mind getting dirty. She was gorgeous. He shook his head and rolled back under the car.

A friend of hers whom she knew from an old baseball team was going to show up later. This "Jonathan" kid was supposedly very good with cars, and wanted to help. The faster they could get it done, the better, right? And while Cornelius was very mechanically inclined and for the most part knew what he was doing, cars were not his specialty. If this guy really knew what he talking about, he might turn out be invaluable.

Once, he showed up, though, Cornelius was a little less comfortable with the idea. He was, at least to Cornelius, very obviously enamored with Waverly. He blushed when she spoke to him; he stared; he stuttered when speaking to her, but not Cornelius; he made a lot of double-entendres that could easily be construed as pick-up lines (though she never seemed to notice) and he tried to work as physically close to her as possible. Those last two parts were what bothered Cornelius the most. Not that he did them, so much, but that he did them freely in front of her boyfriend, at her boyfriend's house. He seemed to have very little in the way of tact and awareness of personal boundaries. On the plus side, Cornelius was able to realize he wasn't completely weird for thinking she was hotter when working on the car.

Too bad Jonathan really knew his stuff. If he had been completely incompetent, Cornelius could just tell Waverly that he couldn't come over and get in the way again. But that was not an option. He tried to think of some reason, aside from the actual one, that he wouldn't want Jonathan there. He couldn't tell Waverly the real reason he didn't want this guy there. Either she'd think he was being petty, distrustful, needlessly jealous, controlling or paranoid; or there was that small chance that she'd realize she liked Jonathan, too, and leave Cornelius. Okay, that was paranoid and distrustful. She wasn't going to leave. He still didn't want to have to tell her.

He tried talking to guy, but Jonathan accused him of being possessive of the girl. He wasn't. Jonathan could hit on her all he wanted, provided Waverly didn't mind, when Cornelius wasn't around. He just wanted the guy to show a little respect when he was at her boyfriend's house. Jonathan threatened, that if Cornelius didn't just let it go, to tell Waverly that Cornelius wouldn't let her to see him, anymore, and was treating her like she was his property. Had he an ounce less self-restraint, he'd have punched the guy. Eventually, the project was over, though, and Cornelius never had to see the guy, again. He was very happy.

* * *

"You should have told her about that jack-ass. And punched him," Wilbur added as an afterthought

"I know I should have told her. That was another mistake I made. At the time I justified it to myself that giving her a car made up for it," Cornelius conceded.

"The car _was_ an amazing gift, but even I know it doesn't work like that. A material gift doesn't make up for an inappropriate action."

"That's strangely mature of you."

"I learned the hard way."

"Figures."

* * *

Five months into their relationship, Cornelius and Waverly sat at a table in the mostly empty coffee shop. There was some big Alumni-sponsored barbeque on the other side of campus, and most of the students who weren't at home or in class had flocked to the site of free food. Waverly was on her period again, and the smell of barbeque did not agree with her. Cornelius wasn't very comfortable with such huge crowds of people in one place. The coffee shop was perfect, though, because it was practically deserted and sold chocolate (and was their normal Tuesday meeting place, anyway).

They were working together on a math problem (romantic, huh?) that Cornelius had been struggling with. Normally, he was better than Waverly was at math, but sometimes, she just saw something he didn't. Then, Cornelius heard a familiar voice. It was Danielle. He saw her and the man he assumed was her fiancé at the register, and tried to hide behind his girlfriend. He really hoped she didn't see him and come over there.

"Oooh, who are we hiding from?" Waverly asked quietly.

Cornelius contemplated not telling her, but he might as well. It wasn't some huge secret, just a girl he used to like, whom he now despised. "The girl at the register. I had to work with her last year, and I kind of had a crush on her. When she found out she totally crushed me. Then she got engaged. For the last month I knew her, I could not stand her, and barely ever spoke to her."

"Aw, poor Neil. So you don't see her anymore? Did she drop out?"

"I don't know what happened. I heard she ended up in Japan or something"

"When was the last time you saw her?"

Cornelius thought this an odd question, but he realized she was probably wondering if they knew each other yet when he still liked this girl. "I don't know," he thought for a second, "About six months ago, I guess."

"Thanks." Danielle had, unfortunately, spotted them and was headed their way, cappuccino in hand. When she noticed the woman approaching, she quietly told him, "Play along." Cornelius was confused, but he decided he'd go with whatever she said.

"Hey there Cornelius," she managed to say condescendingly, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"Wonderful. Ben and I got married last month. I couldn't be happier!" she showed them her wedding ring. They couldn't be more uninterested. "So who's this?"

"This is my girlfriend, Waverly. Waverly, this is Danielle, an old classmate of mine."

Danielle looked amazed at the word 'girlfriend'. "Really? How cute! How did you guys meet?" She could not possibly have been more patronizing. He was a teenager; it wasn't strange for him to be dating.

Before Cornelius could say anything, Waverly told the woman, "I go to school, here."

"Really? That's great! You found yourself another little prodigy." Little? Both he and Waverly were taller than she was. "I bet that works well, doesn't it? It's probably best that you stick to dating others like you." What? Others like him? It sounded to Cornelius like she was suggesting some strange form of eugenics. Only, usually the goal was for people with undesirable traits not to mix with the rest of the population, and intelligence was generally considered a desirable trait. Looking at Waverly, it was apparent that she found the comment somewhat disturbing as well.

"Yeah, I guess," the boy ventured uncertainly.

"So how long have you been together?"

Once again, Waverly responded before he could. "Seven months."

"Oh, really? I still knew you back then, Cornelius. Why didn't you say anything about her?" Cornelius choked, but Waverly looked at her coolly.

"I told him to keep it a secret. My mom didn't want me dating yet and she has eyes and ears all over campus. Since I'm the only other person his age at here, if someone heard he was dating another student, it wouldn't be hard to figure out it was me."

"Oh. How sad. I'm glad she relented. You just look too cute together. She did change her mind, right?" Danielle almost had an evil smile.

"Of course. I'd have a hard time explaining the car, otherwise."

"The car?"

"Silly me," Waverly giggled. Cornelius had never seen her act like this, "I forgot to mention it, didn't I? He gave me a car for my sixteenth birthday."

She turned to Cornelius and asked, "Did you?"

"Yeah." He did. It wasn't at all what Danielle was thinking, but he did give her a car. With the money he was now making from his various inventions, he could have bought her a new car. It would have been fiscally irresponsible, but it was definitely feasible.

"It's a Mustang Convertible. I think I have a picture of us in it." She took her keys and something else out of her purse. It was a picture her father had taken of her driving it for the first time, with Cornelius in the passenger seat.

"Wow." She probably still didn't believe it, though. "You are a very lucky girl, aren't you?"

"You have no idea." Then Waverly made some facial expression facing Danielle, so Cornelius couldn't see.

Danielle made a surprised face; then looked a little disappointed. "Well, I have to go, now, but you two have a good day."

Once she was out of earshot, Waverly looked at Cornelius. "What a bitch!"

"I swear she was a different person last year."

"I bet. I can't believe she asked why you didn't mention me."

"Well, I didn't mention you. I didn't even know you yet."

"I know. The reason she brought it up, though, was to make me feel insecure. I mean, before I met your friends, they knew who I was and from what I hear you talked their ears off about me. You do that when you really like something or are really excited. If she hadn't heard about me, there had to be a reason. She wanted me to think it was because you still liked her and wanted to leave that door open, or were just unimpressed with me." He could not imagine how she had possibly gotten all that from what he thought was an innocent question. "Then, she wanted to tell on us, which was why she asked if I was allowed to date yet. She doesn't want to know you can be happy without her. Your little crush on her was an ego boost which she still wanted."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yes. The real reason she came here was to show off that she was _married_," on the word married, she showed of the back of her hand, imitating the motion Danielle had made to show off her ring. "She thought it would hurt you. Instead, she found you happy and with another girl. All I had to do was ensure that she knew you didn't miss her and your life was better, now. Also, I kind of wanted to let her know what she was missing."

"I'm still confused. That whole conversation was an unspoken battle over me?"

"Pretty much. She wanted to assert that she still had power over you. I had to let her know she didn't. Unfortunately, the best way to do that is to make it look like I have you completely entranced, so I have control. Which is why had to act fake. If I really did have that kind of control over you, it would be a problem. The relationship should be even."

"Okay. I think I can sort of swallow that. One more question: what was that little thing at the end?"

"Um," she said embarrassedly, "I kind of implied that you were, uh, well endowed."

His eyes popped out of his head. Suddenly, despite the fact that he was fully clothed, Cornelius felt naked. "How could you do that? That very personal information, and it should be my decision who gets to know it. You don't even know if it's true!"

"Sorry. I know it was wrong. I was hoping you wouldn't notice or ask. Trust me, though, it got to her." She mumbled something else, but Cornelius was pretty sure he didn't want to hear. He went back to his math problem.

* * *

"That was random." Wilbur told his father.

"I know. It was weird. I don't think I was ever more confused in that relationship. It's funny to look back on, though. That woman still wanted me, even after she was married."

"That's not- wait, that kind of was what was going on, huh? Creepy." After a moment he added, "But that was creepy not funny. The funny part is still coming, right?"

"Yup."


	12. The Talk

A/N: This chapter contains the single most awkward thing I have ever written. But it is kind of necessary. And I think it's funny.

* * *

Waverly, Cornelius, Franny and her new boyfriend were going on a double date. Apparently, Franny really liked this guy, but didn't know him very well and was pretty nervous. Cornelius liked that Franny was dating someone else. She wouldn't have to be the third wheel so much anymore (which was made even more awkward by their age difference). Currently, they were at the Framagucci house. Waverly and Franny were upstairs doing…something. Cornelius was down in the living room playing Super Smash Bros with Gaston, which was not an altogether uncommon experience.

Out of all of his friends, Franny was probably his closest, strangely; and Franny had hinted that it was reciprocal. He still enjoyed hanging out with his male friends, sure. It was very nice to know he didn't always have to search for the second meaning of what people said, and that a conversation would not evolve into a discussion of shoes. But there are things a guy cannot tell other guys. This was probably why they were so close. Heaven forbid he talk about how he felt about something with one of his male friends. He knew there were many things Franny had told him that she wouldn't tell anyone else, too. It was a good thing Waverly got along so well with her, otherwise she would probably get jealous. Waverly got along well with all his friends and she fit into the group pretty well, but she and Franny were especially close.

Because he was so close with Franny, he spent a lot of time at the Framagucci house, so he became pretty good friends with Gaston and Art, as well. He had worked with Gaston on building one of his first cannons, which he used as a pitching machine as he played baseball. It wasn't meant to be a pitching machine, but that guise was the only way his parents would allow him to build and keep the thing. They had a lot of fun launching all sorts of things into the air, though. Especially at this huge field across from the high school the Framaguccis went to. "You are my eyes and ears, tonight, got it? I'm entrusting you with my baby sister," Gaston told Cornelius seriously, giving him his mission,

"Yeah, I know. You don't have to tell me. I'll give you a full report later tonight, 'kay?" Cornelius was a little distracted, as Gaston's guy almost killed Cornelius' and he was down to three lives left out of twenty.

Gaston paused the game, put down the controller and looked Cornelius in the eye. He was perfectly serious when he told the bespectacled boy, "I don't just want a report. You have to make sure nothing bad happens tonight. If she comes home the least bit upset, your head's on the chopping block."

"Um, you do know I'm not the one taking her out, right? I'll do what I can, but I do have my own girlfriend to pay attention to."

"I know," Gaston told him, sounding unhappy, "You can make sure he doesn't try anything physically, at least, right? Just don't let her be alone with him." Cornelius looked at him like he was overreacting, "Sorry. It's just that I've met every guy she's ever dated before the first date until now, but I've never even seen this guy." Cornelius could have sworn he heard him add, under his breath, "It'd be so much easier if she could just date you." Well, he'd get his wish eventually, probably.

The girls came down two games later. They had apparently helped each other with hair and makeup. They both looked beautiful, though Cornelius thought Waverly was just a little prettier. "Uh-uh," Gaston objected, "You'd better march back up those stairs, and take off that makeup." Their parents weren't home, and Gaston had taken it upon himself to act as her father.

"One, you're my brother not my father you don't get to make those decisions. And two, what's wrong with my makeup?"

"Too pretty. He's gonna think you really like him," her brother told her in all seriousness.

"That's kind of the point of going on the date in the first place," she said patronizingly.

"If you let him know that, and so early on, he'll expect things."

"Just because that's how you think, doesn't mean all guys are like that. Right, Cornelius? You didn't expect anything from Waves on that first date, did you? 'Cause she looked gorgeous."

Oh lord. He'd been brought into it. "I didn't, no. But plenty of guys do think that way. You never know till you're there, I guess. I think you look fine, though." Gaston looked betrayed, "What is he really going to try in front of me, anyway?" A quick look at Waverly told Cornelius she had no clue what to say and if he brought her into this, he was dead.

"But what if she's alone, like when she goes to the bathroom or something?"

Even Cornelius had to look at Gaston like he was stupid. "Dude, girls always go to the bathroom at the same time. How do not know that?" he had to ask his friend. He, personally, could not imagine many situations more awkward than peeing at the same time as a friend, on purpose. But after a quick, accidental glance once revealed to him a sofa in a women's room, he decided that that was not all they did in there. He didn't quite understand the idea of hanging out in a bathroom, either, but there were still many of mysteries to girls, and this one was not the most pressing of them.

Gaston shrugged. "Most of my friends are guys and I don't go on many group dates, I guess."

"Wow. It's kind of hard to imagine Gaston as the overprotective older brother. Especially considering he launches stuff from a cannon at her all the time, now."

"It's the cannon-launching part that's hard for me to imagine, right now, and I've seen it. He can be pretty ridiculous. You should have seen him on her first date alone with this guy. He tried to get her to wear what was, for all intents and purposes, a suit of armor. He almost ruined her hair putting a helmet on, and she punched him. That was when he decided that maybe she could defend herself."

"A helmet? Why?"

"No clue. I think it was just a piece of protective gear that he could get on her before she kicked his ass."

"Why didn't he just send her in bubble wrap?" Wilbur joked.

"He tried."

Cornelius was two weeks away from turning sixteen. He was so close to taking that test, which he was sure he would pass. Until then, though, he was stuck with his girlfriend driving him. It was slightly emasculating, but Cornelius tried not to be too bothered by it. So Waverly was driving them to the restaurant where they'd meet this "Ethan" guy.

He was already there when they got there. Franny pointed him out to them from across the parking lot. He looked alright, not that you could tell much of anything from just looking at someone. He was skinny, about average height for fourteen, dressed in a sweater vest over a button-up shirt, but managed to pull off looking pretty cool in it. "You're right," Waverly told Franny, "he does have a really nice jaw line. Cute smile, too."

"Um," Franny turned to Waverly, "You do realize your boyfriend is right there, and attached to your hand, right?"

Cornelius put his arm around Waverly's waist and kissed her cheek, showing that he was not bothered. Waverly asked her friend, "Yeah, why?"

"Well, you just called another guy 'cute'."

"So?" Cornelius told his friend, "she can say whatever she wants around me. I'm her boyfriend, not her oppressor. If she's thinking something, she should be able to say it to me, or we have problems." He added as an afterthought, "Unless it's really mean or vindictive. But if she's thinking something mean or vindictive we have problems, anyway, right?"

"Are you sure you're fifteen?" Franny asked him.

Cornelius looked as though something had just dawned on him. "You know what? You're right. I just remembered I'm really 25. How could I forget?"

Franny told him, slightly pleadingly, "I was just kidding. You don't have to be mean."

"You know, if you're 25, you probably shouldn't be dating me. You're a creep," Waverly told him. Despite her words, she drew closer to him and spun so she faced him as she spoke. His other arm found it's way to her waist.

"I know, but you love me, anyway." He kissed her. He liked playing these little games.

Franny cleared her throat. "Sorry," they said in unison, and continued toward the restaurant, where Ethan waited patiently. Keeping an eye on this guy might be a struggle. Somehow, paying attention to his girlfriend was just more appealing.

The date went fine, though. It was pretty much the normal double date. Lots of conversation, and all three barraging the new guy with questions (though one of the interrogator usually seemed very interested in his answers and smiled a lot). Ethan was clearly nervous, which Cornelius thought he should be. It's the confident ones you have to worry about. Though he did have a few grievances.

"Well that went well," Waverly told Franny as they got in her car, "He's seems like a nice guy, and it looks like you have a lot in common."

"I thought so," Franny said happily.

"I don't know," Cornelius said cynically, "He seemed a little touchy-feely to me."

"One hug at the end of the night is not touchy-feely," Waverly told her boyfriend, "If it is, then I don't want to know what I was on our first date."

"It wasn't just that, it was how long the hug was, and, I don't know, it just seemed weird."

"Hun, maybe he's just awkward 'cause he's not used to this. On top of it being a first date, he was being scrutinized by his date's surrogate big brother. Give him a break."

Cornelius gave up on that one, but voiced another complaint, "Also, Franny, he looked at your chest too much."

"Oh come on, Neil," the younger girl told him, "you look at Wave's boobs all the time."

Cornelius turned to the woman driving and asked quietly, "Do I?"

Waverly didn't answer him, but did tell Franny, "He didn't start that until we were together for at least two months. Doing that on the first date is a little forward."

Cornelius was stuck, "Do I?"

Franny spoke up. "Oh. I guess that makes sense," she said disappointedly, "Please don't tell Gaston about that, Neil. I really like this guy, and he didn't actually touch me except for that hug, which wasn't weird to me."

"Fine, Franny. Next week we're all going out to that amusement park," meaning their entire group of friends plus three or four significant others "bring him along if you can. I'll give him one more chance."

"You're just as bad as my brothers, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment." When they dropped Franny off, Cornelius gave his report, all positive. Gaston was happy.

"Okay, you're right," Wilbur told his friend, "It is weird to hear about you helping mom date another guy. Which I guess makes it just as weird when she helped you."

"Yeah, there were a few internal battles there."

"You know, you could have just told Gaston that this guy was a jerk."

"What purpose would that serve? It would have been unfair of me to date someone else, then not let her do the same. Plus, she'd be really angry with me, which wouldn't help anyone."

"I guess."

When he and Waverly got back into the car and were on their way to his place, Cornelius had to ask, "Do I really, you know, look at your chest a lot?"

"Not a lot. Like I said, you waited until we were more comfortable with each other, even if it was purely subconscious. And you don't do it when I'm talking, so I don't mind. Yes, I have boobs. You don't. That makes them interesting. Why should I be bothered by you looking at them?"

"If you're fine with it, I guess it's not a problem. You don't…look…" he couldn't finish the question.

"Yes I do. Not all the time, but sometimes." Cornelius felt strangely violated, "What's so wrong with thinking my boyfriend's hot? If you really want me to stop, I'll try."

"I guess it's okay. Just, so when you told Danielle…you know, you knew?"

"Yep." Somehow, this possibility had never occurred to him. He felt naked, again. "I know things happen by accident, and maybe it isn't right for me to take advantage of that, but I can't help looking sometimes." Cornelius was pretty sure he had never felt more awkward in his life. Yet, he did not want to end the discussion. "If it really bothers you I can try to purge all of those thoughts from my mind."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just weird that I didn't notice. I mean, your chest and your face aren't that far from each other, but…" Cornelius just now thought of what he said earlier about her being able to say whatever she wanted in front of him. They had been together just over six months and had never really talked about sex. Not that they were likely to have any, or anything, but after six months they should at least be able to talk about it. Lord knows, they both thought about it, enough.

"Yeah, it is kind of funny, isn't it? Maybe you were always looking at my boobs when it happened so you didn't notice."

"Maybe," he said uneasily. More than anything it was about the topic of conversation, though.

"You know what was really cute? When we were working on this car. You stared at me so much." So she noticed. "But it was like this sweet, 'she's really beautiful' look," she said that last part with a euphoric distance in her voice, "not like the 'I want to have sex with that' look Jonathan kept giving me."

"Wait, you knew about that?"

"Yeah. I decided it was worth it to suffer a little. I hoped you didn't notice, and I thought if he wasn't going to work with us anymore, you'd ask why. Then, I'd have to explain. I even talked to him about it couple of times. I've known him since I was five, and he used to be a nice guy, but I think puberty has screwed with him a little too much. In the last month, I've pretty much stopped to talking him." They arrived in front of Cornelius's house, but they both seemed to want to talk more, and they were over an hour away from her curfew; so they just sat in the car a little longer. Waverly put the top down, though, as it was a very nice night. Cornelius appreciated the cool air on his warm, red face.

"I talked to him about it, too. I didn't want to tell you because, well, it was awkward, and I didn't want you to think I was paranoid. It's probably good that you don't talk to him much anymore. I mean, ignoring my complaints is one thing, but if you actually told him to stop doing something to you and he didn't, that's a whole other kettle of fish. It really bothers me, actually. He didn't ever…touch you inappropriately, did he?"

"No. He had the decency to keep his hands off of me. Not that he didn't make me uncomfortable."

"Well, I guess that's something. Still, it's hard to believe he could do something like that to someone he considered a friend." Very cautiously, he asked, "Have I ever made you uncomfortable, in that sense?"

"There was never a time that you did something that made me uncomfortable, no. There were times when I made myself uncomfortable, though. The worst was that time we were supposed to go the ballet." Cornelius remembered, and knew what she was going to say, he just didn't want to think about it. He also wondered why she would bring it up. Maybe laughing at it would make it less embarrassing, though. "When I had my head in your lap. I was going to lie looking up at you, but then I had the most embarrassing thought, and I couldn't get it out of my head. I faced your knees, so you couldn't see how humiliated I was." Cornelius just chuckled a little. "I wasn't the only one, huh?" she added, "Phew."

For the duration of most of this discussion, Cornelius was very uncomfortable. He avoided saying various words or phrases, and so did she. He wondered what this meant in the grand scheme of things, aside from the fact that they definitely weren't ready for sex. He was very glad they were talking about it, though. At the very least, knowing she had the same problem that he did, even if it wasn't as obvious when she was having it, was a little reassuring.

* * *

Wilbur squirmed in his seat. "Gah! Too much information! Way too much information. What happened to the rule?" Cornelius just laughed at his son. This was fun.

Wilbur could not think of a whole lot of things that were more awkward than talking to his girlfriend about sex, which he had never done. One of the things that topped that list, though, was talking to a parent about sex. It turned out that talking to your parent about talking to his girlfriend about sex was just that much more painful. "This is because I laughed at you, isn't it?"

"This is the wrath you incurred."

"I don't think I deserved this."

"Maybe not. But it is important to talk about. We had been together for six months, I think it was due."

"I've been with Sophie about that long and the subject hasn't come up yet, and I don't think it will anytime soon. Bell and I were together for over a year, and we never talked about sex. There were no adverse consequences."

"Sure. But you and Bell were a little younger, and neither of you could drive. Once one of you has a car, it's very different. You really can get away from your parents for the first time. And you have a car." Wilbur knew this as he had recently acquired his license and his own car (that he and his father had built together in what was now family tradition).

"You said the 'car' thing twice."

"I know."

Wilbur figured out what his father meant and shuddered again. "I'm going to need therapy after this. And you're paying".

"You didn't have to come here." Then sounding precisely like 45 year-old Cornelius, the older teen added, "Anyway, I'm glad you did. This isn't the 'don't' sex talk. It's the 'you need to talk to her about it' one. Don't you think it's better to know you're on the same page and never get to the point where it matters, then get to that point and find out you have vastly different ideas of what's appropriate?" Wilbur was annoyed by the fact that in telling his father why he didn't need this discussion, he'd managed to instigate it.

"Well, I doubt it's gonna get to that point. I mean thanks to you, mom and school," he said this ironically, conveying that he was very unhappy about it, "I'm waiting at least until college."

"What if she doesn't want to wait?" This though had not occurred to Wilbur. The stereotype was that guys were the horny sex fiends and girls had to protect their innocence. The idea that a girl (or anyone) wanted sex more than he did was difficult to imagine.

"I don't think that's very likely."

"Fine. But what about when you get to college? And if you plan on getting married someday, you're going to have to talk about it, ideally before the wedding."

"Well, then I'll worry about it when I get engaged. It probably won't be so bad when I'm older."

"But getting used to talking about sex couldn't hurt, could it?"

"Yes it can. For instance, this is very painful."

Cornelius rolled his eyes. "Fine whatever. I do find it weird, though, that to so many people, talking about sex is more uncomfortable than the act itself.

"Makes sense, to me. I like actually swimming much more than talking about it, especially on a hot day."

"But what if it's a cold day and someone wants you to go swimming with them? Would you rather tell them you don't want to, or jump into the water and suffer?"

"That is a terrible analogy."

"You started it. Anyway, I've know a few people," Wilbur gave him a disbelieving look, "well they've all been girls so far. Anyway they just went along with something they didn't want to because they were too embarrassed to object. Being able to talk about it sounds like a much better course of action, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, don't you think it's better to talk about it before it gets to the point where one of you is pressuring the other? I know I'd rather talk about something, even if it was really awkward, before it got the point where someone expected something of me."

"Fine. You're right."

"Thank you."

"No more of this little sex talk, though."

"No more. All that's left is the breakup story."

"If it's not the most hilarious thing I've ever heard, and I've endured all this for nothing, I will hurt you."

"Fine."


	13. Mistake Revealed

A/N: You are all glad you'll be rid of her huh?

* * *

Waverly and Cornelius were hanging out with his friends at his place, which was pretty commonplace. They hung out alone, sure, and they hung out with some of her friends, too. But she really liked his friends, and obviously, so did he. She didn't have one central group of friends, like he did. She had friends from ballet, which she didn't even do anymore, so they were growing apart; guy friends from baseball; there were a few people from tennis that she could stand; adult friends from college; and a few random people she met here and there like Cornelius, but didn't know each other. One of the things she enjoyed the most about his friends was that it was a diverse group, by interests, gender, race and abilities. All her friends were so homogenous. Her ballet friends were girls who were exactly her age, much skinnier than she was, mostly had terrible self-esteem issues and a few of them seemed to actually be anorexic. You can only hang out with people you have to fix for so long, especially when it's multiple people who need fixing in one place. When she hung out with the guys from baseball, she was always the only girl (unless one of them brought a girlfriend, but that was really rare) so there was always a very masculine atmosphere. The girls from tennis were very girly, which was fine, but got annoying in huge doses, and was not very fun for Cornelius. Cornelius's friends, on the other hand, didn't have a single constant mood. They were probably a little more intellectual than most kids in their mid-teens, but they could be silly and superficial, too.

Tonight, though, something seemed wrong. They had been together eight months and knew each other pretty well, so Cornelius could tell when something was up. They had gotten into arguments and they both had bad days before, but this seemed just a little different. She had been a little distant, sporadically pulling away from physical contact and spacing out a lot, for about a week, by this point. It had never been as bad as it was tonight, though. Still, he decided it was probably just a fight with her mother, or something. He had gotten up to get some friends some water, and now sat down on the sofa next to his girlfriend. Normally, she'd lean into him, and he'd put his arm around her waist or her shoulders. But she stayed distant, tonight. He decided he'd have to talk to her after everyone left. Until then, he'd just let it be. He was uncomfortable and distracted most of the night, though.

Eventually, everyone went home. Waverly didn't try to escape with the rest of the crowd, which Cornelius was thankful for. They never actually said they'd talk later, but apparently a couple of looks and facial expressions had gotten the message across. Cornelius took a moment to be amazed by how much it was possible to communicate without words. Then, the real world filtered through his brain and what was happening sunk in.

He sat down near her on the sofa, but not quite close enough to touch, and faced her. "What's wrong?" he asked, attempting to sound sympathetic, but exposing a sense of foreboding in his voice. The air felt very heavy. He had a feeling that whatever it was, he couldn't change it. He also had a feeling that they wouldn't be a couple tomorrow.

She looked up at him, remorse written on her face. She took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy for either of them. "First, I just want to say, I'm really sorry. I didn't want this to happen." She paused, looked down for a moment and raised her head, but did not look him in the eye. "I have feelings someone else." He could feel his heart breaking, but he couldn't say he was too surprised. He nodded slowly but did not meet her in the eye. "I'm really sorry."

"I know," he told her. He took a deep breath and asked, "It's one of my friends, isn't it?"

She nodded slightly, "Yes."

He didn't know why, as it was probably just going to hurt him more, but he had to know. "Can you tell me who?"

"I owe you that much, don't I?" He was about to tell her she didn't owe him anything when she opened her mouth. "Franny."

Cornelius' eyebrows hit his hairline. He had not been expecting that. "Oh," was all he could manage to articulate after a moment of silence.

"Yeah. I didn't expect it either." She paused again, "I still really like you, too. I'm just a little confused right now. Considering what it is I'm confused about, I probably shouldn't be in a relationship." He nodded. "I'm really _really_ sorry."

"I know. I understand." He didn't want to, though. He wished she wasn't so nice about it so he could at least be angry at her. It was obvious that this was really hurting her, too, though. He couldn't imagine anyone choosing something so bewildering and upsetting for herself. "It's not your fault, or anything."

"I thought it was, at first. I tried to ignore it for a while." She laughed wryly for a moment, "I told myself she was just a really good friend, and what I felt was normal. When I couldn't believe that anymore, I decided it would go away. But it didn't. I really wish it had." Her voice was shaking like she was almost crying, though she shed no actual tears. Cornelius was conflicted. She was breaking up with him; she didn't get to cry! You don't get the privilege of being comforted when you're breaking someone else's heart. But he understood that this whole thing was probably really scary to her. It would have been one thing if she had feelings for a random girl while she was single, which still probably would have been confusing. But she was attracted to one of her best friends, which meant she couldn't come to said friend for help; and she was with a guy at the time, making it even more confusing, and she still suffered the heartbreak of losing her boyfriend. Then, there was the fact that she only knew this girl through her boyfriend, so in being honest and breaking up with him, she might never see the girl again, either.

Why did he have to have a conscience? He scooted next to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "It'll be alright. You'll get through this." Now that he had decided to be a good person, what was he supposed to say?

"It's okay, Neil. You don't have to pretend. You're angry, as you should be. I know it's unlikely, but if you ever stop hating me, maybe we could still be friends." Before he could respond she stood up. "Goodbye."

He stood up and hugged her. "Bye."

* * *

Cornelius waited in silence for a minute. "You're not laughing."

"Wha?" he said as though he had not been paying attention, "Sorry, was I supposed to?"

"Um. I just told you about how I was dumped for a girl. You don't think that's funny?"

"I'd like to think I'm a little more tactful than that."

"I'd like to think so, too. That doesn't mean you are."

Wilbur shot him a look that told his father he was not amused. Then a funny thought struck him, "Did mom ever, you know, date her?"

Cornelius was surprised by the question. "No, at least not that I know of. And they both usually come to me about that stuff. Why?"

"Just curious." After a moment, he spoke up, "You guys are still friends, right? I mean, I assume she's Aunt Wavy. How'd that happen?" Not that he planned on breaking up with Sophie, but just in case, it'd be nice to know how that worked.

"People still call her Wavy?" Cornelius asked in slight disgust.

"Yeah. You do, too. Why?"

"After she came out that she was bi to our friends, a bunch of the guys made these awful jokes about how 'Wavy isn't straight'. They weren't cruel, or anything, they were just bad jokes. I think I was bothered more than she was, though."

"Oh. So can you tell me how you stayed friends?"

* * *

He found it strange. The only other time a relationship of his had ended, he had done something awful and it was the obvious consequence. She clearly wanted nothing to do with him after that. This time it was his decision. He didn't want to lose her as a friend. But she was right, he was extremely angry. Not necessarily at her, but at the situation. He imagined, however, that you couldn't get along very well with the girl who broke your heart, if you were still heartbroken.

"Son?" his father called from behind him. He had been standing in place by the closed front door for a few minutes. He turned around to face his father. Apparently, his distress was written on his face. "Bad night, huh?"

"She broke up with me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, son."

"For a girl."

"Oh." Suddenly, Cornelius felt bad. He realized that, if she did turn out to be a lesbian or bisexual, he had just outed her. Just to his dad, sure, but that was really impolite, possibly even dangerous. And he did still care about her. He'd have to be careful with whom he told. It was probably best that he didn't tell anyone aside from his parents. "Do you want to sit and talk about it? I can't say I have much experience with that particular predicament, but I went through a few breakups at your age."

"Maybe tomorrow. I think I'm just gonna go to bed right now."

"Alright."

Once he was in bed he realized why this was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. The first person to come to mind to help him through this, after his parents, was Franny. Of course, there was only so much he could say to her. Probably just that they broke up. If he told her that Waverly had feelings for someone else, it might make Franny turn against the other girl. And she might ask just who it was, or figure it out herself. His future relationship with her made it even more awkward. You can't really tell anyone that your girlfriend dumped you because she's in love with your future wife, whom you don't really have feelings for yet. It just sounds crazy. So he couldn't even tell anyone one of the parts that bothered him the most. This was really going to suck.

And it did. For the first two weeks, he was devastated. He talked to his parents about it, but there's only so much that can do. Especially since neither had ever been in that situation. He did everything in his power to avoid her. He didn't call her, took her out the address book on his computer, and tried to avoid her on campus (though she was doing the same, so they ran into each other a few times trying to find new places to hide). He avoided even thinking about her. He immersed himself in his work, and got quite a bit accomplished. He also played a lot of video games and took up Gaston and Art's favorite cathartic pastime: smashing things with a baseball bat. He was amazed at how well that worked on his anger.

But after those two weeks, it started to get better. It wasn't really anything he did. Just time. He was still upset, but not as much as he had been. He wouldn't contact her, but if he did happen to see her, his chest didn't sting so much, and he managed to wave awkwardly a couple of times. Three weeks later, after school let out for the summer, and Cornelius had graduated from his program, he realized he had moved on. He didn't really care anymore. When he saw Franny, there was no longer that initial twinge of pain at the thought of why he was alone. Though there was some annoyance that he was the third wheel, now.

It had been a little over two months, when Cornelius realized he missed Waverly. Not that he missed being with her, because he finally didn't miss that. He just missed having her there. She was a good friend. After taking a deep breath, he picked up his phone and called her. "Hey, Wave."

"Hi," she was confused. It was clear that she was afraid that he was going to ask for her to come back.

"You said if I didn't hate you, you wanted to stay friends. I don't hate you. So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out next week or something." It was a rather awkward conversation.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Wanna come over to my dad's place next Tuesday? I get to stay with him for a week at a time over the summer."

"Sure. See ya Tuesday."

"Oh, and Neil?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For not hating me."

"I couldn't hate you forever. I'm too nice for that."

"Oh right. Sorry, I forgot you were you were a living saint."

* * *

"So that was it?"

"Pretty much. I just avoided her for a couple months, got over it and then we went back to being friends. Part of it was that we didn't break up in a heated screaming match, though, or with either hurting the other intentionally. It was also our individual personalities, how long we'd known each other, the fact that we both wanted to stay friends and probably some other stuff."

"That sounds complicated."

"It wasn't though. It just happened. You know what's funny? After the first few weeks, which were a little awkward, we were even closer than when we dated. Barring Franny, she's my best friend."

"Really? That just sounds weird."

"Well, there's kind of a sense of 'been there, done that' so we're not so worried about breaking up, or the possibility of a romantic relationship. I can tell her pretty much anything. And she gives really good dating advice because she's seen how I act in a relationship. That's on top of what we already had in common."

"What can you talk about with her that you can't talk about with Franny?" Wilbur did not like the idea of his father having someone who could replace his mother's role in Cornelius' life.

"Mostly girls."

"Oh. I can see how that would be awkward. Wait, I thought you used to talk to Fanny about Waverly."

"Yeah. It's not such a good idea this time."

Wilbur perked up, "So you like mom? Have you asked her out yet?"

"No. She has a boyfriend. The other thing about Waverly is that she understands better. You know, because she likes girls, too."

"Does she date other girls?"

"Sometimes, why?"

"Does she tell you-"

"No. She gives me no details and I don't ask." Wilbur looked disappointed. "Your turn."


	14. Wilbur's Anxiety

A/N: I am going to get flamed for this chapter, huh? Whatever. If you don't like it, flames are welcome. Just please review this one, as a lot of thought went into it.

* * *

Wilbur was fifteen minutes away from asking Charlotte Read to go out with him. He looked up at the clock in the corner of the classroom. Amazingly, he was not the least bit nervous. He knew she'd say yes. Her best friend was his best friend's sister, and according to Rory, she was head over heels for him. Wilbur wasn't too surprised. Not only was he very attractive, partially thanks to his participation on the school's swim team, but he also knew how make girls fall in love with him. His last relationship lasted more than a year, and only ended because she got all depressed. All his friends were so clueless, but he got it. The trick is to have a sense of humor. You have to be able to make fun of yourself, and her. They all say they want a nice guy, but really to get a girl's attention, you have to be a jerk. A little, anyway. As long as it was in jest, it didn't hurt. Oh yes, Wilbur Robinson had girls figured out.

* * *

"This didn't last very long, did it?"

"Three weeks, and I'm amazed she kept me that long."

"Then it doesn't count. New rule, it has to be at least a month long or there isn't enough to make fun- I mean talk about."

Wilbur laughed at his friend's shallow attempt to cover up his true intentions. "Fine. Then I guess my next one would be Rach, wait, no." He thought for a moment, "Let's see, not Emma. Aelwen? No, that was like a week. The thing with Leilani was like 25 days or so. Hmmm."

"Did you even care about these girls, or were they each just a name off a list?"

"I did care. I just wasn't very good at it. They'd break up with me pretty quickly; then, I would fall for some other girl really fast on the rebound. It wasn't on purpose."

"Good. I thought I really screwed up there for a minute."

"Hey, five girls in seven months isn't terrible. There are plenty of guys at school who do worse on purpose."

"I guess,"

"Anyway, I'm over that phase. Now, onto my next actual relationship."

* * *

Practice was over and Wilbur was headed into the pool locker room when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of the most beautiful people he'd ever lay his eyes on. Riley Jones had deep, dark, brown eyes, mocha skin that just made you want to touch it, a sly smirk of a smile and short, curly, black hair (and a tight, wet bathing suit). Wilbur realized he was staring, shook his head, and continued to his locker.

It was the beginning of his sophomore year of high school and Riley was apparently one of the new kids. Wilbur decided to get to know this person. Maybe they could be friends. After he finished getting dressed and the locker room was nearly empty, Wilbur introduced himself.

"Wait, she was in the guys' locker room?"

"First, stop interrupting." Then Wilbur hesitated. Should he "correct" himself and tell the whole story wrong, or should he just tell his dad the truth? The lie wouldn't make sense, though. "Second, uh, Riley's a guy."

"Oh," Cornelius said in the same manner, and coupled with the same expression he had given Waverly when she revealed her crush on Franny. "So you're…"

"Bisexual? Yeah, I guess. I haven't really thought about it much." This was a bold-faced lie. The truth was, however, that he hadn't thought about it much recently. "I don't like to go by those labels, though. I prefer the numbers."

"Numbers?"

"Kinsey scale, my friend. I have a hard time believing that so many people are 100 percent gay or straight. I would think most people fall somewhere in the middle, but choose to label themselves by which way they lean. I'm a 2. I tend to like girls more, but every once in a while, I find a guy attractive. I mean, even before Riley, I could recognize which guys were attractive and which weren't. Can you honestly say you've never looked at guy and envied his physique?"

Cornelius was strangely uncomfortable with this conversation. Back when he was maybe thirteen or fourteen and in the most awkward stage of his life, he did experience the occasional attraction to another guy. He had, however, buried any such thoughts, feelings and memories deep in the farthest reaches of his mind, and hoped that they would never be unearthed. Even now, though, he definitely knew when a very attractive man came into view, and had envied many such men for their handsomeness. He had never really thought the two were connected, before, but it made a little sense. And maybe the negative envy was a sort of defense mechanism so that he wouldn't have to admit to himself that he found another man attractive. Not that it was wrong, or that it meant anything to the big picture. He was currently captivated by Franny, the woman he would someday marry, so any attraction to another person was insignificant. "I guess you're right. This is why you asked if Franny ever went out with Waverly, isn't it? You wanted to know if it was genetic."

Wilbur had to nod, "Yeah. Homosexuality and bisexuality are more acceptable in the future, but they're still marginalized. I felt pretty abnormal and wrong when I realized I was really attracted to this guy. It would have been nice to know that this sort of thing ran in my family."

"I think I can understand that." A thought struck Cornelius, "This is also why you didn't laugh, huh?"

"I dunno. It wasn't a conscious decision. But it probably has a lot of bearing on why I didn't exactly find it funny. Anyway, back to the story."

* * *

They exchanged names and general pleasantries. Wilbur took a moment to brag about he was the only sophomore on the guys' varsity team. Riley told him that it would not last, as he himself would soon be joining him. They left the locker room to where Riley's mother was waiting to pick him up. Wilbur hopped on his skateboard and headed home, wondering why he felt so weird.

Over the next couple of weeks, the two talked after practice, distracted each other in history, which it turned out they shared, and even saw each other and talked at lunch. They got to know each other pretty well. Wilbur had just gotten home, and was still thinking about his previous conversation with Riley one afternoon. He went up to his room and started on his homework, but he was distracted. He kept thinking of the funny way Riley said certain words, that infectious smile, his strong broad shoulders, his gorgeous eyes.

Fuck! No. This just was not happening. Wilbur did not have a crush on a guy. Not on his new friend. He really thought they might be good friends but Wilbur had to ruin it by realizing how sexy the other boy was. They could still be friends, though, right? This was just a phase. He just had to make sure Riley didn't figure it out before it passed. He'd get over this and go back to being a pig and ogling the girls when they walked by in their tight, revealing swimsuits in no time. He took a deep breath and tried to get back to work. Even though he showered in the locker room before leaving earlier, he decided another might be beneficial as he could still smell the chlorine on his skin. A nice, cold shower.

The next week was awful. Now that he realized it, he thought about his attraction to the boy even more. Whenever he saw Riley, all he could think about was how beautiful he was. Those eyes, the smile, that cute little expression when he made when he saw Wilbur, his lean, muscular torso. No! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! This was wrong. It was disgusting. The guys on the swim team had no issues with modesty (maybe it had to do with the fact that they always had to parade around in those little Speedos); they showered and even just walked around the locker room in the nude. God, how much would they hate him if they found out he was-- well he wasn't gay, but they wouldn't be very happy when they realized Wilbur now liked guys. He would probably have to quit the team. He'd never had this issue before and it scared the shit out of him. What the fuck did this mean and how much was it going to screw up his life?

Interaction with Riley was excruciating. He was so worried this guy would figure it out, get pissed, and kick his ass from here to Sunday. But Riley didn't seem to notice. Either that, or he enjoyed torturing the boy. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose. He did little things that just made Wilbur's stomach flip. Smirk from across the history classroom, wink at just the wrong time when the teacher was talking, those little jokes that he told just for Wilbur, and he just had this air about him that exuded sexiness that he seemed to turn up just when Wilbur was around. His timing was impeccable, too. After practice the next Thursday, they talked while Riley waited for his mother to get there. Just before he got in the car, he turned back and asked, "Wil, if you're not doing anything, wanna hang out at my place tomorrow?"

"Sure."

After Riley's mother dropped them off, then rushed away to some PTA meeting or something, the two boys were alone in the house. They just sat, played video games and talked for a while. Wilbur's heart was beating very fast. Why did he agree to this? Oh yeah, he couldn't resist this guy. He didn't get it. Riley had none of the qualities he usually found attractive in girls, except maybe the attitude. Okay, they did get along very well as friends as this guy was confident, funny and liked a lot of the same things as Wilbur. They talked about pretty much everything, it seemed. Everything except girls. But there was that glaring difference between this guy and the girls Wilbur was normally attracted to: his whole body. But what is a body? When he thought of who he was, it was always his thoughts, words and actions he was concerned with. His body was just the "what". Surely, the physical being did not make up the person, right? Wilbur stopped thinking about that, though, as he started getting outside himself and thinking too hard, which scared him. Philosophy was not his subject.

After a while, they decided they were hungry (when are teenage boys not hungry?). They put down the controllers and Riley ordered pizza. Riley jumped over the back of the sofa and back down next Wilbur. Wilbur looked up, more as a caution to make sure he would not be kicked, accidentally. When he landed, Riley had a questioning look on his face. Wilbur was ready to die. He was sure he'd figured it out and there'd be some awful scene, after which Wilbur would never be able to go back to the same school. Recently, there was a report of a gay man attacked because of his sexual orientation and castrated. Was that what Riley would do to him? Why did he ever come here?

"Dude, are you alright?" Riley asked seriously.

Wilbur took a deep breath, shook his and told his friend, "Yeah. I just remembered a question I got wrong on the AP Bio test I took today." He did take the test, so it wasn't like the whole thing was made up.

"I hate when that happens. It sucks, 'cause you know the answer without having to look it up, just not when it counts." Wilbur relaxed. Nothing was wrong. They started playing again, and Wilbur, being a little more relaxed, whooped Riley's butt. "Wow, you suddenly got really good. That was random."

"I was going easy on you earlier." Riley looked at him with that smirk. He knew Wilbur was lying. Did he know about Wilbur's feelings or didn't he? Could he just stop playing with him? Suddenly, out of nowhere it seemed, Riley was kissing him. The experience of kissing a guy was different, to be sure. His skin was rougher, he was more aggressive, and Wilbur could feel stubble against his face. But it was not unpleasant. In fact, it was very enjoyable, and he kissed back with equal fervor. On top of the physical events taking place, Wilbur's mind began running at a mile a minute. So Riley did know, but he felt the same way. This was good. Probably. Unless this was a trick to see if Wilbur was gay, in which case he was dead, but may as well enjoy himself while he could. But if they did both feel the same way, what did that even mean? Would they go out? Would that mean that Wilbur would have to "come out"? Did it mean he was definitely bi? What would happen at school? He stopped thinking, though and decided to just enjoy the kiss.

It didn't even last long, though. Riley pulled away abruptly and threw himself away from the sofa. He said, voice wrought with anxiety, "Oh God! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean— You must hate me, now. Well, it's been nice knowing you. See ya."

"Wait!" Wilbur had to interject, "Calm down. I don't hate you."

"You don't? You must a very tolerant man."

"No. I don't. Actually," he paused, "I kind of liked that."

"Really?" Riley looked and sounded incredulous. He had been sure Wilbur was straight.

"Yeah." Wilbur stood up and walked over to his friend. Riley backed up, a little. He didn't believe Wilbur, so Wilbur would have to make him believe. He grabbed the taller man by the shoulders, pulled him in and kissed him. Wilbur could not quite believe it, himself. He was kissing another boy through his own free will, and was enjoying it. He had even initiated this one. One of Riley's hands found its way to the back of Wilbur's head and the other to the back of one of the smaller boy's shoulders. He was good.

The doorbell rang and startled the boys out of their activities. Riley went to the door while Wilbur sat back down on the couch. He needed to figure some stuff out, but this might just be okay.

A second later, Riley brought their food and a couple plates out to the living room. Wilbur looked at his friend. "We should probably talk about stuff, huh?"

"Yeah," came Riley's response, "We really should."

"I'm kind of- I mean- I've never really been attracted to a guy, before." Wilbur told his friend.

"Oh," he said flatly. For all intents and purposes Wilbur had just told this guy, his potential new boyfriend, that he wasn't gay. If this guy was, he probably just made him feel bad about it.

"Dude, I'm not going to judge you if you like guys. I just kissed you. I meant that I'm new at this. It would be really nice, actually, if one of us knew what he was doing."

He smiled (Wilbur melted) and said, more energetically, "Yeah, I guess. I've only done this once before, though."

Eventually, they decided yes, they were going to date. But they had to be very careful about it. Riley's parents already knew about his inclinations toward guys, so they could be more open at his house. They decided that they would do nothing in school. No kissing, no handholding, no anything that might let people figure it out. It was a little torturous to see the guy you really cared about four feet in front of you, with people all around holding hands or kissing with no repercussions, and not be able to do anything, but they decided it was necessary, at least at first. They could do pretty much whatever they wanted at Riley's place, so they just had to wait till they got there. They did spend a lot of time at Wilbur's house, too. They pretty much had the same rules there as in school unless they were actually alone in Wilbur's room. On the plus side, the rule about not being able to fully close his door only applied to when a girlfriend was over, so they could at least have some privacy, which they very much appreciated.

* * *

"Dude, what did I say about details?"

"You made the rule, you broke it mercilessly. You have no right to complain."

Cornelius sighed, "I guess you're right, huh?"

"I'm always right."

* * *

A/N: I know I'm definitely not the first one to suggest Wilbur liking guys, I just find that for some reason, bisexuality is more controversial than homosexuality. This is why I imagine people not liking this chapter. It's either A or B, never both. I say this as a bisexual woman. I've gotten crap from both sides for it.

* * *


	15. A Little Scary

A/N: This one's a bit morbid, sorry. I just found out that my neighbor who was a close childhood friend died in a car accident (this is on top of the death of my sister six months ago and an aunt eight months ago), so subject of death is on my mind.

Also it gets into religion (I know I shouldn't) but it comes to an ambiguous conclusion. I'm really sorry if I offend anyone. I am pretty religious, actually, but I don't imagine the Robinsons would be.

* * *

Wilbur and Riley entered their history class, prepared to be bored out of their minds. Ah the bubonic plague, everyone's favorite disaster. Actually, Wilbur did find the whole thing interesting. Ever since Mickey died, he could be a bit morbid. It wasn't necessarily about the actual boy that died; it was just that until then, he could not remember anyone that died so he didn't think about it much. It just made death more relevant to his life. So he found the Black Death, while a terrible tragedy, incredibly fascinating.

Today, they were examining the affects of the Black Death on society, as generally everyone knew what it was and why it happened. Many people did develop a morbid fascination with death. Wilbur understood that if one death made him think about the subject more, losing half of your village might make difficult to think about other things. People struggled to explain why some perished and others survived. Often, the calamity blamed on any sort of outcast or isolated group that existed. Jews, people with leprosy (or acne or psoriasis- any skin disease, really), foreigners, beggars and gypsies were attacked on the grounds that they had caused the illness. People also blamed it on the general citizenry for being immoral. It was compared to the way Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed by God for the sins of their residents. Wilbur thought this a little strange as the plague did kill young children and infants- what terrible things could they have done? Naturally, though, "sodomites" were also blamed for bringing the curse upon villages and many of them were executed by being burned at the stake. There was on particularly horrific description of a man in Florence who was castrated and burned between his… Wilbur stopped reading. He was going to give himself nightmares. Why did that belong in a textbook? Wouldn't the word "persecuted" be enough?

He skipped ahead to a much more pleasant paragraph. So many people died in Caffa (which was apparently along the Crimean Peninsula) that they did not have enough time to bury the dead, and instead stacked them like firewood outside the city walls. Also, the Mongol army used infected corpses as a biological weapon, catapulting them beyond town walls. Yes, this was far less unnerving.

Wilbur did think about the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, though. He was not raised to be religious, and quite frankly, the Bible was just another book to him. But it was a book that had an immense impact on society. He had read bits and pieces of it, but heard very little interpretation of it by members of clergy aside from on TV. He had, in fact, read Genesis 18-19 where it talks about the two cities, out of curiosity when some people protested in front of church that performed gay marriage ceremonies, holding signs about said passage. He got a very different impression from the passage than he had heard from others. A group of male villagers want to rape some male foreigners, which sounded more like an extremely violent form of xenophobia than homosexuality to Wilbur as rape is not about sex, but anger and power (or so he learned in that chapter in health class a year earlier). Then, Lot offers his virgin daughters, who were probably around Wilbur's age or younger, to the crowd (um, who in their right mind would send their children out to be gang raped?). Later, the man has sex with them, and his daughters each bare his child. This is the hero. If it was about sex, wouldn't Lot have been smote? It does say outright that the citizens of these cities were unconcerned with the poor and needy. Letting people starve on the streets sounded like a worse offense to Wilbur than having sex with someone you love who happens to have the same parts that you do. Then again, what did he know about religion? He had only been in a church maybe four or five times in his life that he could remember. He had also never read Leviticus, Corinthians or much else of the Bible. So there was probably a lot that the theologians knew that he didn't.

He did wonder why he worried about it so much. He had only been with Riley for three weeks and had definitely not had sex with the other boy; nor was he planning to unless they were together for a very long time, so that technically didn't even apply to him. There were a few kids at his school that were "out", many of whom openly dated others of the same sex. There was a small amount of backlash, which amounted to name-calling, graffiti and the occasional rude t-shirt (which were against the dress code and often had to be removed or covered up). But for the most part, people were civil. There was a GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance) and a few Christian clubs at his high school. Some of the Christian clubs and the GSA occasionally jointly sponsored lectures and/or discussions on the intersection of religion and sexual and gender issues. It wasn't his peers, so what was the big deal? Was Wilbur himself homophobic? In three weeks he had not told his parents, whom he pretty much knew would accept him. Was he just a coward?

Eventually, history was over. He waved at Riley from a distance and left to his next class. When he was with Bell, and they left a class they had together, they usually exchanged words and a hug or quick kiss. He gave Riley a slight movement of his hand from twenty feet away. Was Wilbur his own worst problem? Would he get over it? He decided he'd start. Today was Thursday, and Riley was coming over to his place the next day. His new mission was to come out to parents before then.

* * *

"Whoa, what was with all the Bible stuff?"

"I don't know," he said sarcastically, "I had just read an account of how people who did the same thing I was doing used to be burned or tortured to death for it; supposedly because of religion, of which I knew very little about. What did I have to be worried about?"

"That was seven hundred years earlier."

"You know that sort of treatment didn't end there. I'll admit that I had nothing to worry about, in the end. I've never suffered any adverse consequences because I dated a guy. And I wasn't always so anxious, it was more that a reminder that people like me aren't always accepted by society happened to come just as I was getting comfortable."

"Scientists weren't accepted either. How many people were persecuted because of a scientific theory or advancement? I never walked around in fear because of it."

"That's different. You being smart doesn't a scare person into thinking you'll physically harm him. Like I said, I participate in a sport where guys don't wear much, and walk around naked in the locker room. It's a lot easier to inadvertently threaten the guy next to you if you he is naked and knows you like guys than if you're two normal guys but one of you is really smart."

Cornelius shrugged, "Makes sense."

* * *

Wilbur waved goodbye to his boyfriend, hopped on his skateboard and flew home. He could do this. It was silly that he hadn't yet. When he got home his parents were not there, yet. His father was still working and his mother was probably at rehearsal for the benefit concert she was conducting, which was playing all next weekend. But they would both be home in a few hours. Until then, Wilbur did some homework and rehearsed a little speech in his head that changed every time he went through it.

A while later his dad came home, then his mom. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. Why was he nervous? They wouldn't be bothered by it. He found his father in the living room, talking to his own mother about some science thing. Once there was a pause Wilbur asked, "Dad, can I talk to you and Mom in private?"

"Sure, son." He turned to Lucille and told her he had to go, and then stood up returning his attention to the boy, "I think your mother's in the music room."

They went to the music room and found Franny. She was just finishing a song, and looked back to greet them. "Hi guys!" she said cheerfully.

"Our son wanted to have a word with us in private."

"Okay." She turned to the frogs "You guys keep practicing. Frieda, you conduct." Then she turned around and followed them to her study, which was the closest convenient room. Franny and Cornelius sat in chairs, while Wilbur stood in front of them leaning on the desk. "What is it, son?"

He opened his mouth and stated, shakily, "Mom, Dad, um, I'm bisexual." There. He said it. No taking it back, now. The ball was in their court.

"Yes dear," his mother told him, "We already know that."

His father added, "And your friend, Riley, isn't just a friend." They were both smiling at him, with faces that seemed to say "and your point is?" There was no adverse reaction. They were probably a little relieved to have it out in the open.

"How did you know?"

His mother smiled, knowingly, "We're your parents, Hun. We can tell these things."

"We've known you're bisexual for years," his father informed him.

"Wait, this just started three weeks ago."

His father gave a slight chuckle. "I guess you don't remember Carter from your second grade class," he said like it was a fond memory.

"What?"

"Oh, you used to go on and on about him," his mother reminded him, "at first we just thought you had made a really good friend."

"But your usual accounts of your friends did not include physical descriptions and blushing," his father added.

"We thought it was very cute," Franny told her son. "We were never bothered by it, and it would never change how much we love you."

"Thank you for telling us, though. It must have been a bit daunting."

"I don't know what I was afraid of," he told his parents. "Thanks for being so cool about it."

"Of course. Why wouldn't we be?" Franny stood up and hugged her son, then held him back so she could look him in the eye. "We love you and nothing could ever change that. You can tell us anything, got it?"

"Got it." His mother kissed his cheek. He returned to his room to finish his homework. He was very relieved and strangely elated. His parents knew and accepted it years ago. He literally had nothing to worry about.

The next day at school, he told Riley about how it went with his parents. "Great! That's pretty much how it went with my parents, too. 'We know, we love you, thanks for telling us.'" Wilbur figured it couldn't really go any better than that. He still wasn't ready to be open with it at school, but at least he could be comfortable at home.

He and Riley did hug when they greeted each other, but it was the usual guy hug that started with a handshake. They also made up their own special handshake that they used when they wanted to hug, kiss or just be close when they were at school or in public where people might know them, so they couldn't. It wasn't a great substitute, but it was something and it never failed to make Wilbur smile and blush a little when they did it.

Their friends never said anything, and when they hung out with their friends, they stood apart and acted like nothing was going on, but a few of them knew. There was the problem that guys are just so unaffectionate with each other, so being so comfortable with a guy you haven't known very long was rare. Wilbur considered it lucky that Riley was new to the area and school this year. Otherwise, they would have two groups of friends to convince and split their in-school hang out time with. The mere fact that the two of them switched back and forth at the same time (or around the same time) would be pretty suspicious.

Wilbur often observed the behavior of the girls in the group they hung out with. They touched so much more. They hugged when they greeted each other, even kissed each other on the cheek. It was perfectly acceptable to touch another girl's shoulder, arm or even hand during parts of the conversation. Especially if something was funny, one girl was correcting another, or the subject concerned one of the girls involved in the conversation. They openly called each other "cute" or even "hot". Nothing was ever assumed of any of it. Wilbur imagined the boys acting the same way. It was pretty funny, and would clearly never happen, but it would have made this a whole lot easier.

After school they were going to hang out at the Robinson's place. Wilbur told Carl to come pick them up fifteen minutes late on purpose. When swim practice ended, Wilbur stayed behind a minute to talk to the coach. He made up a concern just so he could stall, a little. Riley had to help put away the lane lines because he refused to help put them in earlier in the day. By the time they both made it to the locker room, most of the team had left. They both took their time in getting ready to go.

After a while, they were the only two left in the locker room. Wilbur smiled. He was mostly dressed, but still shirtless. Riley was just zipping up his pants. Wilbur walked over to the room's only other occupant. "Hey there, gorgeous," he said, hitting on his boyfriend. Riley smiled, too. They kissed, and Riley pulled him closer. While they weren't doing anything terribly risqué, Wilbur decided he liked shirtless making-out. That extra skin contact apparently made a huge difference. They finished dressing, got their stuff and exited the building, where Carl was just landing the car.

For the first time, Wilbur was perfectly open at home. He walked in hand-in-hand with his boyfriend. Nobody said anything, looked surprised or acted like anything was new. Apparently, his parents were not the only ones who were able to figure it out. They treated Riley like a member of the family, but they did that to pretty much anyone who walked through the doors, even door to door proselytizers and that IRS auditor (who only came in for directions, but ended up wasting half of the work day trying to find the exit).

Wilbur and Riley were cooking dinner, tonight. Wilbur was almost never allowed in the kitchen because he was worse than incompetent in there; but Riley loved to cook, was pretty good at it, and found it ridiculously cute when Wilbur tried to do anything more complicated than boiling water. So that was their date tonight. It was actually pretty fun. Wilbur learned a lot, and was very proud of himself by the end of the night as he had only messed up twice, and neither party was seriously injured. Riley was really cute when he cooked. He looked so cool and content, like he was really in his element. Also, he was often engrossed in what he was doing, so, when he determined it was safe, Wilbur could walk up behind him and surprise him with a hug and a kiss on the neck or cheek. Riley seemed to enjoy this. It was a good thing that Riley had been to the house at dinnertime, before. He worked very hard on the meal and might have gotten upset when more of it ended up on the walls than in people's mouths. Instead, he drew up the menu with a food fight in mind. He did receive a lot of complements on the food, though.

After dinner, the boys retreated to Wilbur's room, where they chatted for a while, then continued what they had started in the locker room. Wilbur _really_ enjoyed it.

* * *

"There's no way I can convince you to spare me the details, is there?"

"Nope."

"Damn."

"I know. It's a shame isn't it? Anyway, any other comments?"

"I still don't get what you were so worried about. I cannot imagine either Franny or myself being upset at that sort of thing."

"Neither can I. That made much less scary, to be sure. But it's still weird. There was the slight chance that you disapprove, or condescendingly tell me it was just a phase and it would pass, which would indicate something was wrong if it didn't."

"I want to say that there was no chance I'd disapprove, but you didn't know that, huh? Wave had some trouble with this part, so I can understand, I guess."

"Trouble?"

"That's another story. Stay on track."


	16. Out With It

It was Tuesday nearly two weeks after Wilbur had come out to his parents, and things were going fine. Well, mostly fine. Riley was getting a little frustrated at the fact that they were still not "allowed" to show any public displays of affection. He understood in the beginning because Wilbur seemed unsure of his feelings for another guy. But they had been together for over a month, and when they were alone, Wilbur seemed very sure of how he felt about Riley. He was fine in front of both of their families, why did he care what other people thought? Wilbur explained his fear about the other guys on the team. Riley shrugged, "If they want to keep their suits on when they shower, that's their prerogative. If they really can't accept it, then we make some sort of agreement so we're never in the locker room at the same time as they are, or something."

"That sounds like a lot of trouble."

"I'm sure we could figure something out."

"What if they don't want to reach an agreement? What if they just want to kick our asses? There are twenty or so other guys on the team and two of us."

"I doubt they'll be upset, and the 'us verses them' line of thinking isn't going to help anyone. I mean if they haven't figured it out by now, we aren't doing anything that's bothering them. If they have figured it out, and I think some of them have, they don't seem to mind."

Wilbur sighed in defeat. It shouldn't bother the other guys, should it? It's not like Wilbur was staring or gaining any pleasure from seeing them naked. He was only attracted to Riley. Maybe he was right. Maybe Wilbur should just let it go. It would be nice to be able to kiss his boyfriend or hold his hand when they walked through the halls. "I guess you're right. Just give me a few days to get used to the idea."

"How many is a few?" Riley asked skeptically.

He had to get over it sometime, right? "Friday at the latest." He didn't know exactly what they would be doing on Friday, but it would be something, and he wouldn't have to hide after it. Thursday night was going to be hell, but Friday night should be better, right?

Friday morning rolled around, eventually and Wilbur was surprised when he woke up that he had gotten to sleep at all. On top whatever was going to happen today, he had stayed up past 2:00 AM finishing a paper on _A Tale of Two Cities_. That was a long-winded book. Why did they pay the man by the word?

When he got to school, he told himself to calm down. Very few people were there yet, as it was early, but Riley was waiting for him at his locker. As soon as Wilbur was within reach, Riley took the boy by his hands and kissed him. There weren't many people in that particular hall, but there were a few. Most people missed it or didn't care, but a few people did look. The boys decided that that was what they'd do today: act like they did when they were at home. No rainbow stickers on their lockers or shirts with a message. No grand statement, just what felt comfortable.

Because they didn't see each other for large parts of the school day, they didn't have many opportunities for PDA, but they did have lunch and just before and after history. They held hands on their way to their lunch table, and a few people stared, pointed and whispered, but nothing terrible. A few people nodded knowingly, some were surprised, but most of the student populace did what teenagers do best: they didn't care. At all.

Their male friends said nothing. They didn't seem bothered or overjoyed. Their female friends on the other hand, had tons to say. They were so glad the boys were "out" now (though they "knew it all along"), and it was "so cute" to see them together. Also, they were now apparently the token gay guys, and got asked all sorts of advice about hair clothes and even makeup. Neither knew what to say to those questions. In his own words, not even Riley was _that_ gay, and he generally only liked guys.

The guys on the team didn't make a big deal of it, either. Wilbur and Riley tried to make it apparent as possible that they were not looking at the other guys (had the floor always been that shade of blue?). More of them showered in their suits and kept towels on while walking around, but most of the upperclassmen didn't seem to mind at all.

Over the next couple of weeks, Wilbur also realized he received less attention from the girls. He had been quite the lady's man, before; only the girls who usually threw themselves at him were not the type he liked. Often they were the more superficial girls who liked him for his body and fame, without ever taking into account who he was (he never thought he'd be able to say people wanted him for his body as just a few years earlier he was the skinniest kid he knew; it wasn't as cool as he'd imagined it would be). It had been getting annoying as of late because he had a significant other and, while this was how he met some of the girls he had dated since Bell, he was not currently interested. He tried to be as aloof as possible, but that apparently only made him more appealing, and it probably didn't help that he was always in trouble for something. He stopped receiving most of that sort of attention, now; however, there emerged a small group of girls who seemed more interested now that he had a boyfriend. He didn't get it.

* * *

"I have trouble believing you had a problem keeping the girls off of you."

"It wasn't _that_ bad. But when I had a boyfriend, even a little flirtation was annoying. It wasn't like I was asked out every day, or anything. In fact, it was more solicitations for commitment-free physical activity than relationships, and it wasn't a constant problem. I just didn't want to hear it at all."

"You didn't like girls flirting with you and trying to do stuff with you, expecting nothing in return. Are you sure you're really Wilbur?"

"Why does everyone think I'm a complete jackass? No, I am not interested in meaningless sex. Nor do I enjoy people hitting on me, which is why I don't do that to girls. I'm a complete person, and I don't think it's so weird to expect to be treated as one."

"Seeing you all worked up like this is pretty funny."

"I'm glad you're so amused."

* * *

The next Wednesday, one of their teammates tapped on Wilbur's shoulder just as he was about to leave. Wilbur knew this guy relatively well, so it wasn't that strange that he would want to talk to him, but Wilbur was a little scared that this guy wanted to speak to him alone so soon after revealing his relationship with another guy (was Wilbur going to be attacked?). Instead, Wilbur a little surprised, but this guy came out to him. He said he had never told anyone because most of his friends were on the team, and he was scared of what they'd do to him, and his parents almost certainly would not approve. He was very thankful to Wilbur and Riley for being open about it. It made him feel more comfortable as he had often been afraid someone on the team would figure it out. At least now he knew no one cared. Wilbur was kind of honored that someone trusted him enough to tell him this, but otherwise did not know what to make of it. He told his friend he'd keep his secret, and wished him luck, but he really had no clue what to do here. That seemed to be enough, though.

Four other people (three guys and one girl) ended up coming out to Wilbur or both Wilbur and Riley in the next few weeks. Wilbur did not quite get it. They were casual acquaintances, not like really good friends. They were willing to come out to Wilbur and Riley, whom they didn't know well, for the first time instead of their friends and families. Maybe it was a big deal that he and Riley no longer kept it a secret, just not in the way he thought it was.

Slowly, though, he started to see a large portion of the student body gravitate toward the couple. If either of them had been really popular before this, Wilbur might have understood; but they weren't, so he didn't. Of course, pretty much everyone knew who he was, as he was the son of someone very famous, and there were always a few people who wanted to be his friend because of that. But he wasn't friends with the entire school, or anything. He had a feeling they wanted to prove their school was accepting of homosexuality, and here was the poster couple. They were both relatively attractive without being male model status, neither was really effeminate or foppish, they were easy to relate to because they were pretty much average smart slacker guys who happened to be dating and Wilbur was well known. They were being used as an example.

Wilbur did not appreciate this newfound fact. He wasn't out to make a statement. Gay marriage had been legal in the country for over twenty years. He didn't know what that statement even was. He just wanted to be with his boyfriend. Riley didn't seem to mind, though. If people wanted to rally around them, let them. Just by being together, they might be making others become more tolerant and therefore making the world a slightly better place. Wilbur was not interested in making the world a better place. Well, he was, this just wasn't the way he wanted to do it.

"What's the big deal? It's not like it requires any extra work on your part. Unless you consider being with me work."

"Of course this isn't work. It's not about that. I just wish that if people were going to use us as the poster children for acceptance, they asked us first."

"Would you have said yes?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Probably."

"Then why is it a problem?"

"It's the principle of the thing. Maybe I am being petty or weird. It's just that people have been doing this for most of my life. They want me to be their friend because they think it applies some quality to their lives. They're suddenly smart, or cool, or pretty. Now they're tolerant of homosexuality. It gets pretty tiresome."

"So you think I don't get what you're saying because my parents aren't famous?"

"No. I just think it might not bother you as much. You know what? Forget I said anything. It doesn't bother me that much, and I bet next week people won't even remember anymore."

* * *

Sarcastically, Cornelius told his son, "Sorry for being so smart and creative. I didn't mean for people to infringe on your privacy. Maybe I'll just not invent some stuff. Would that make you feel better?"

Wilbur glared, "Hey, I'm allowed to be annoyed. In the future, it bothers you and mom sometimes, too. It's not fun when people use you as a social stepping-stone."

"Do people really do it that much?"

"Adults? Not so much. Teenagers who care a lot about that stuff? All the time."

Cornelius did have to admit, he got a bit of it, already. Mostly from Waverly's mom, but some other people tried to hang out with him to prove something about themselves. "So it'll get better, right?"

"Probably. But it got worse first."

* * *

The winter semi-formal dance was coming up. Neither Wilbur nor Riley cared about that stuff, so they decided they probably weren't going, just like they hadn't gone to the homecoming dance. Instead, they had fun their way: playing video games; doing stupid skateboard and hoverbike tricks that could have gotten them killed if they weren't landing on the bouncy topiaries; cooking dinner just for the two of them, which they ate outside on a picnic blanket with electronic fireflies for lighting (it was probably the first time Wilbur was ever actually romantic); and making out in Wilbur's room (and on the picnic blanket when no one could see them). The entire time, they were wearing comfortable clothes and did not have to worry about what other people thought and their respective lack of dance skills. That sounded like a great plan, this time around.

For homecoming and prom, a court was elected of individuals. For the winter semi-formal, a couple from each class was elected (and each class had a sort-of runner-up couple, as well). Wilbur would not have even voted were it not for the fact that they passed the ballots out in homeroom. Wilbur was not at all happy when he saw his and Riley's names right there at the top of the ballot. He didn't even know who would have nominated them. Oh yeah, it could have been anyone in their little cult following. Didn't the nominees have to consent before being added to the ballot? Apparently not. He voted for the next couple down and passed the slip of paper back to the teacher.

Nominees had to meet certain criteria; maybe he could disqualify himself between now and the dance. Let's see, he looked it up on the email they sent about the dance and nominations on his phone. They had to be nominated by someone else (as in not a member of the couple); he couldn't undo that one. They had to have at least a C+ grade point average; well he wasn't going to screw up his A- GPA for this even if he had the time. Oooh, they had to have fewer than 10 absences, no truancies, no owed hours of detention and they cannot have been suspended during the current school year. All he had to do was get detention, then not go till after the dance. He put his phone away before his teacher noticed it, and then took it back out. This could be where he caught that lucky break. No such luck. This teacher was apparently blind. In every class until lunch, he did subtle things to try to get in trouble. He didn't want to get in big trouble; an hour of detention was all he was after. No one noticed or cared about anything.

At lunch, before he even reached him, Wilbur could tell Riley was very happy. Apparently, he liked the idea that they were nominated and wanted to go to the dance, now. Ugh. Wilbur ended his campaign for detention. He didn't think it would be that fun, but it meant a lot to his boyfriend so he went along with it. Plus, he didn't really know, he might enjoy it.

His mother thought it was great. To her it was proof that people really didn't care about sexual orientation anymore and her baby was getting recognized for how great he was. Wilbur knew otherwise, but if it made her happy, why burst her bubble? He didn't get why she cared, as she didn't care about that sort of thing when she was his age, but he figured it was a mom thing.

* * *

"I cannot imagine Franny caring about that."

"Well she did. It wasn't about being popular, to her. It was about me being accepted."

"Still. It's weird."

"This was only a couple months after I was worried about being beaten up for dating a guy. Being nominated for sophomore couple at some stupid dance is like the opposite of that."

"Unless someone pulls a 'Carrie' and has some prank set up."

"They didn't.

--

What do you think? Good, bad, ugly? Review please.


	17. The Rock Star and the Dance

A/N: This one is mostly Wilbur exaggerating. There is a small amount of TallulahxCarl in this one. I just think that pairing is so cute.

* * *

In the weeks leading up to the dance, Riley and Wilbur's female friends grew very excited about it. They acted like they were the ones nominated for the antiquated popularity contest. Even some of the guys thought it was cool. Wilbur figured that was because none of them had girlfriends at the moment, and as long as Wilbur and Riley were the couple of the month, they may as well ride their coattails. They looked like the sensitive, supportive, straight friends of the gay couple that everyone loved so much. What girl wouldn't love that?

Wilbur was the only person he knew who was unhappy with the situation. He even tried talking to his dad and other members of the family. His dad wasn't happy about it, but only because it made Wilbur unhappy, he didn't object to the idea. Nobody understood why Wilbur was unhappy that he was being used to make a statement. He didn't want to make a statement; he just wanted to be with his boyfriend. Pretty much everyone told him he could do both. If just being with this guy like he wanted also did something good, why not? But Wilbur didn't want to be forced to do something, even if it was something good.

He sucked it up, though. It wasn't that bad, was it? He just had to stop dwelling on it. Yes, they were asked to go on group dates with a million people, it seemed, but they could always refuse. The only really bothersome part was when girls (and it wasn't just his friends anymore) asked him for advice on fashion and stuff. He did have to admit that the whole situation actually worked to his advantage, a little.

Wilbur had a small band made up of slackers who were technically in band at school, but always went off in one of the small practice rooms on their own to play a sort of jazz/rock fusion. Even though they didn't participate in the actual band, the teacher always gave them As, because they were good and _were_ playing music all hour, anyway. Every once in a while, Wilbur's band was used as a filler in assemblies, and at football games and such. The week of the dance, they performed at an assembly about the dance, it's rules and the upcoming winter break. They suddenly had a ton of fans.

After swim practice that day, a few people actually showed up at the pool for autographs (just a few nuts- not a huge crowd). One girl asked Wilbur to sign her bra. He was confused, but went along with it. Her friend, trying to outdo her, or something, asked him to sign her actual breast (just where it was revealed by her shirt, she didn't take it off, or anything). Wilbur wondered if there was a way to do this without touching it. There wasn't. Boy, was that awkward (the first time he actually touches a girl's boobs and he's got a boyfriend). He could have said no, and he probably should have. He was sure she was only doing this because she assumed he didn't like girls, so he wouldn't enjoy it (ha ha); but he did anyway and it appeared to make her happy. Whatever. Riley thought it was hilarious, and actually encouraged him. He also found novelty in the fact that he was dating the school's newest rock star.

It wasn't only because Wilbur was "famous" at school that people liked the band. They were actually really good. Wilbur's mother had made him practice playing and signing for hours ever since he was little, and if she could teach jazz music to frogs, she should be able to teach it to her son. Wilbur was more interested in rock music, as were most of his band-mates, but he and one other member just couldn't give up their jazz roots altogether; so they played a mix of both. The other guys and girl were pretty good, too. But Wilbur, while he didn't admit it to himself yet, was _very_ good. He pretty much made the band, as the lead singer, lead guitarist (that's right, he could play lead when the frogs weren't around) and main songwriter. Before now, they were an anonymous group of weirdoes who played funny music that was strangely, kind of good. Now they were Wilbur Robinson's band, and they were awesome. He didn't mind this part, so much.

Wilbur had just walked through the door to his home, and as it happened, his mother was within eyeshot. "Mom, I think I have to thank you," he said excitedly.

"Oh?"

"Everyone loves my band right now. We may actually have to come up with a name, soon!"

"That's wonderful, Hun." She thought it was just so adorable when he got all excited like this. She wished she had a camera on her.

"Yeah, so thanks for making me practice all that music stuff until I hated you. It was so worth it."

This was a strange way to thank someone, but Franny did not receive thanks from her son very often, so she took it. "You're welcome, dear."

Just then, Tallulah entered the room. "Oh, Wilbur, when you finish your homework, can I borrow you?"

"Uh, sure."

* * *

"Right. So you were a rock star last school year," Cornelius said incredulously.

"Okay, some of that was hyperbole. It wasn't like the whole school loved us. It was just that suddenly about a quarter of the school took notice. If we weren't actually good, I don't think people would have cared so much."

"Still hard to believe. Especially after your account of how you couldn't keep the girls away with a ten foot pole, earlier."

"Well I guess you'll see it 28 years, won't you? Oh, by the way, we have a show at our house, once, but only once. You're going to ground me, but Mom lifts it as more will people come than we invite and it's not my fault."

"I'll have see it to believe it."

* * *

After dinner and after Wilbur finished his homework, he found Tallulah in her sewing room. She had been very kind over the last couple weeks, in giving him things to tell the girls who would not stop pestering him about fashion. So he did kind of owe her. "You're here, great!"

"What do you need? Someone to hold pincushions? Help picking up all the little scraps of fabric?" He had trouble thinking of something she might need him for that Carl would not be better at. She and Carl were really close (he wasn't sure, but sometimes, it seemed like there was something going on between them), so why did she need Wilbur? Not that he didn't want to help her, he was just confused.

"No. I need a model."

"What?"

"My brother would never agree, Art, Gaston and your father are all busy and too tall and all the other men in the house don't have the right physique. I just have a couple outfits for guys; mostly, I do women's clothes. All you have to do is stand there while I figure out how it needs to be altered. Please?"

"Alright."

"Oh, and when this is done, you can wear one to your little dance!"

"Okay." The dance was in four days and he had not given any thought to what he would wear, yet. It was kind of nice to know he wouldn't have to think about it.

"Thank you!" she said excitedly as she hugged him.

Tallulah lied, a little. He didn't just have to stand there wearing this stuff, he had to walk around, and hold certain positions for a long time while he was occasionally poked with pins, and he had to change behind the screen in the corner of the room several times. But he didn't mind. She was always very nice about it, and it wasn't like he was doing anything else constructive. Also, he had a pleasant conversation with her. He usually got along very well with Tallulah. She used to tag along a lot when Wilbur and Carl were off on their adventures; and nearly being killed or at least injured together so many times can really bring people closer together.

They got to the last outfit, the one Wilbur would probably wear to the dance. Wilbur looked at the boy in the mirror. No, the man in the mirror. She managed to make him look taller and more muscular than he actually was. He almost looked like a real model (if only his skin were clearer and his ears didn't stick out so much). "Are you sure this is a real mirror and not one of those hologram ones?"

She removed a couple pins and pantsed him; mirror Wilbur was also pantsed. "Now I am."

"Hey!" he said as he pulled his pants back up. "Not cool." She put the pins back in.

"Oh come on. You walk around in your boxers all the time." He only did that in the mornings on weekends when it was warm, and it was usually just for a minute or two. "Plus, I go to all your swim meets. I've seen you in less."

"Whatever." He did look really good, so he should probably be thankful. "Thank you," he said sincerely, "You did a great job."

"It's what I do best. Well, after getting on my brother's nerves."

--

Because he still couldn't drive, his mother had to drive him to and from the dance. On the way they were picking up Riley. Wilbur walked up and rang the doorbell, with his mother behind him. Riley answered the door, looking drop dead sexy. He cleaned up very well. Wilbur just paused for a minute, drinking in the sight. Then, he came to, and entered the house. Judging by the look on Riley's face, though, the feeling was mutual. He'd have to thank Tallulah again (she did make him tailored clothes designed specifically for him to wear to the event).

Franny turned to Riley's mother. "Don't they look so handsome?" Riley's mother agreed and after they conversed for a while, both mothers made them take pictures.

One of Riley's four sisters (the only one who was younger than him) came down the stairs. "Hello, there," she said to Wilbur, looking him up and down.

Riley turned to her, "You do know he's my boyfriend, right?"

"Can't stop me from looking." Wilbur was both flattered and embarrassed. Riley had told him about his little sister. She was the youngest and the least disciplined and tactful. Also, she was thirteen.

When they got to the dance, their female friends were all over them. The girls did that same thing, where they called each other and the boys "cute" and in Wilbur's and Riley's cases, "_so_ hot". Wilbur still didn't get why girls could do this, but guys couldn't. He didn't mind the complements, though.

When things had calmed down, they walked onto the dance floor. Wilbur could not dance. It was even a little more awkward than usual because Wilbur had never attempted to dance with another guy before. He definitely didn't want one of them to have to be "the girl". It was okay, though. They figured it out after a while. He actually was having a lot of fun.

He and Riley took a break after a while as they were both very hot and sweaty. They each gulped down a few cups of punch, then just sat and talked for a while. "Ugh. I hate this song," Wilbur told his boyfriend. It was an annoying pop song with no meaning, sung by a girl about their age, with good measurements in place of talent. Wilbur worked hard and put a lot of thought into the songs he wrote. He felt this sort of thing just cheapened it.

"Oh, I actually kind of like it. It's catchy."

"You're joking, right?"

"No. I really don't think it's bad."

This is where Wilbur should have shut up and accepted their different tastes. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a disconnection somewhere between the part of his brain that knew this and his mouth. "It's not even real music; it's manufactured noise. There's no emotion or thought to it. It's just a simple equation. And a bad one at that."

"Oh, excuse me for not being a music snob. You know, I keep my mouth shut about a lot of the stuff you like. Sometimes I cannot believe what passes for good food to you. Sometimes, I don't even want to kiss you," he said the last part as a joke, but it was a mean one.

That was below the belt. "Then don't. Nobody's forcing you." Their little argument was interrupted by one of the student council busybodies announcing that it was time do announce the winter court. Wilbur was angry, still, but he realized he should let it go. Their names were probably going to be called and everyone would be watching them. This made Wilbur even more agitated, but he faked a smile for the crowd and for Riley. He hoped he didn't have to do this a lot in the future. It made him feel so debased. But it made Riley happy and what choice did Wilbur have, really?

People made a circle in the middle of the dance floor, where said busybody stood with a mic. All those who were nominated were supposed to stand around or close to the border so people didn't have to wait forever for them to make it through the crowd. She announced the freshman runners-up and winners (they gave them some weird nobility name- like Duke and Duchess or something, but Wilbur could not care enough to remember his own title much less that of the little freshies). Most people clapped and cheered, but not very much or very loud. Wilbur clapped politely. The guys got little crown-thingies; the girls got tiaras. If someone tried to make either him or Riley wear a tiara, he would have to punch them.

Next, she announced the sophomore runners-up. The applause was louder, as it traditionally increased in volume by rank and year. Next, she announced, much to Wilbur's dismay, that he and Riley had won. Actually, all Wilbur heard was his own first name and half of his surname because people were already clapping and cheering so loud, though it could be assumed that Riley was the other half of the couple. Everyone loved them. He smiled graciously, and walked the six feet or so, hand-in-hand with Riley to receive these stupid little crown things. Like all the couples before them, they embraced and kissed. Wilbur felt sick. They retreated to the perimeter of the circle, and stood there, smiling, until they were finished with the announcements. Then the whole court had to go and take pictures, and stuff.

Afterward, Wilbur wanted to talk to Riley. Riley was genuinely very happy, whereas Wilbur's mood had steadily fallen since their tiny argument. He wanted to apologize, and he was sure Riley would, too. But Riley was busy talking to their friends and "friends" about how happy he was, and how great this vacuous, pseudo open-minded school was. They weren't. If they really were as enlightened as they pretended to be, they wouldn't care. It shouldn't be a big deal that he and Riley were both guys. Sure, it was immensely better than a negative reaction, especially on such a grand scale. But the more he saw, the angrier Wilbur got. Only, there were tons of people around him and Riley. So he smiled and hugged and thanked and kissed and danced and pretended until he was ready to puke.

He didn't get a chance to talk to Riley alone until it was time to go. He was sick of holding the other boy's hand, but he felt if he was going to talk to him about this, he shouldn't do something that would agitate Riley. So he faked that for just a little longer as they walked to where his mother waited to pick them up. It was only one night anyway; he knew people had to go through worse. Just fifty years earlier, people like him stuck out entire fake marriages to people they didn't love in that way just so they could lead some semblance of normal lives.

Finally, they were walking alone to where Franny was going to pick them up. "Hey, I'm sorry about what I said. I am too much of a music snob, sometimes," he said regretfully, "Just because something is played on the radio doesn't make it bad."

Riley looked at him like he was nuts, "I had totally forgotten about that. Sorry for what I said, too. I really didn't mean it," he said happily. He had a great night, and seemed to assume Wilbur had, too (Wilbur did fake it well). Wilbur wondered how they could get such contradictory feelings from the same experience. It was just one issue, and he knew he and Bell had far more differences than he and Riley, but they were just _so_ misaligned on that issue. He looked at the smile the boy next to him was wearing. He melted, a little. He couldn't ruin Riley's night, they'd just talk later.

* * *

"You said 'vacuous'. That's a big word for you," Cornelius said patronizingly.

Wilbur glared, "Out of everything I said, that's what you came up with? Not even that I was overreacting or anything?"

"I thought the part about Carl and Tallulah was interesting," the older boy offered. Of course, he understood what was going on, he just wasn't in the mood to be upset. He had been very upset for the last couple of days. The whole point of him agreeing to this was to give him something to laugh at. He didn't think it was possible, but Wilbur was bringing him down right now. Wilbur picked up on this.

"You're right about 'vacuous', though. I just learned it last week."

* * *

Review, please. Is it good, bad, boring, too long?


	18. Big Deal

A/N: This or the next chapter might be the last for a while. I have more homework coming up. Also, please review. Nobody reviews anymore and I feel so unloved. I promise the story is on it's way up.

* * *

After dropping off Riley, Wilbur returned to his mother's car with his façade lifted

After dropping off Riley, Wilbur returned to his mother's car with his façade lifted. It was not difficult for her notice that he was discontented. "What's wrong? I thought you guys said you had a good time." She started the car and took off.

"He did. I just spent half the night being fake and hating myself and everyone else for it."

"If you hate it so much, why did you do it?"

Wilbur took a deep breath and explained everything that had been bothering him to his mother, and everything he'd been thinking the whole night. By the time he was done, they were at home and sitting in the living room.

"It sounds like you're really unhappy," his mother began, "Have you talked to him about it?"

"Yeah, but I haven't brought it up in a while. I mean, he doesn't mind, so he encourages the whole thing."

"That's not right," his mother told him. "He shouldn't encourage it if you told him it bothers you. You need to let him know just how much it upsets you."

"I do plan on bringing it up, again. It's just that we always argue when I bring it up, which just makes us both miserable."

"Are you unhappy a lot of the time the two of you spend together?"

Wilbur could see where she was going, and he didn't like it, but he figured just talking about with her honestly might actually help. Even if she thought they should break up, it didn't mean Wilbur had to do it. "I do really like him and I enjoy the time we spend alone, just not when we're at school or with our friends."

His mother looked very sympathetic, yet dissatisfied, "That's a large percentage of the time you spend together, though, isn't it? I know I'm biased because I don't want to see you hurt, but it just doesn't sound right to me. Maybe it's time for you to reevaluate why you're still in this relationship. Do the benefits really outweigh the costs?"

"Are you saying that if he doesn't agree with me, you think we should break up? Over what other people think?"

"It's not just what other people think. It's how the two of you act and are treated in public and something can be done about it. My real concern, though, is that you told him it bothers you and he still encouraged it because he disagreed with you."

"So we disagree," Wilbur was just trying to defend his relationship at this point, but he realized he was grasping at straws, a bit. "You can't tell me you and Dad agree on everything." As he said his last sentence, his father walked into the room, but Franny could not see him as she faced away from the room's entrance. Wilbur wondered if he should say something about it, and if knowing he was there would change her answer. Cornelius held a finger to his lips, telling Wilbur to keep quiet. He slowly approached his wife with a slightly mischievous smile as he was planning to surprise her.

"Of course we don't agree on _everything_. Any relationship whether it's romantic, friendship, familial or otherwise involves sacrifices and compromise. There have been a myriad of times when your father and I have had to come to some sort of compromise, big or small. But there's never been any question of whether or not it was worth it; it undoubtedly was. In your case though, you haven't been together very long, it seems that it's really hurting you and you haven't come to a compromise. It's very different." After a slight pause she added, "And, yes, I know your father is standing behind me." She turned to face her husband.

"How did you know?" Cornelius asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Hun, when was the last time you were able to surprise me?"

Cornelius looked very thoughtful for a moment, and then seemed to suddenly figure something out. After kissing his wife quickly, he said, "I'll be in the lab," and left the room. Maybe he figured it out. He definitely had that new-invention-idea look.

"How _did_ you know?"

"Years ago, I installed a small camera in the back of my head that feeds straight to my visual cortex."

"Really?" This would almost make sense. Throughout his life, there were so many times when she seemed to see what went on behind her. It wasn't just catching him when he did something wrong, either. Though it was mostly catching him in the act or just before he did something mischievous.

She laughed. "Of course not. That would be ridiculous. And I'm not sure I'm talented enough to perform brain surgery on myself, much less well enough that my husband couldn't detect it." Wilbur secretly did not believe her denial. He also wondered if knowing her husband could hear her changed her answer to his last question. She seemed to detect this, "Anyway, I didn't realize he was there until I was almost done. It didn't change my answer, and I'm sure he would have said something similar. But, like I said, I'm not sure the case is the same with you and Riley. She paused before adding, "Is there anything else you have to say?"

"Do you want me to break up with him?"

"No, Honey. I'd much rather you two worked it out. I just want you to be happy, and you looked so miserable when we started this conversation. I wanted to be sure you knew that if you think it's a big deal, it is a big deal, no matter how he feels about it. You wouldn't be an awful person if you did break up with him. You wouldn't be an awful person if you didn't, either."

He nodded. "Thanks," he said both genuinely and sadly. He was still upset, but not as much as he had been. It was more like a dull ache than a stabbing pain, only completely nonphysical. Only he had a new problem: should he split up with Riley? It seemed extreme for one night's discontent. But it wasn't just one night, it had been going on for two months. He tried to ignore it at first, but it just seemed to intensify and tonight was too much.

* * *

"No, I am not checking for a camera in the back of her head. I'm sure that was a joke."

"Please? You've got a few years, you know. Just stroke her hair or something. Eventually you'll be dating, then married; it doesn't have to be weird."

Cornelius could not believe how creepy his son sounded right then. "Not happening."

"Fine. I guess it's up to me."

"Please don't."

"You can't stop me."

"In 28 years, I think I can figure out a way."

* * *

Four days into winter break (and the day after Christmas), Wilbur's band was having what was supposed to be a small performance for close friends and family in the Robinsons' backyard. There was a small stage set up and about 100 chairs, figuring that each band member would have fewer than twenty people coming to watch them. It was just because they only performed during school hours and never knew very long in advance when it would happen, so their parents and families had never seen them perform. They practiced in one of the member's garage sometimes, but usually when no one else was home so they wouldn't complain about the noise.

Cornelius had the strange inclination that more people would come than were invited, but no one listened to him so he gave up. Only he was correct. Word got out, and apparently people thought the invitation was open. Including everyone's families, about three hundred people arrived. Not a ridiculous amount, but more than they anticipated. It didn't make a huge difference as it was in a large, open area, so it wasn't really crowded, but it wasn't nice to know there were probably kids that not even their son knew on the premises. No one got in the house, luckily. Because there were no formal invitations, just verbal ones, and there were so many people, it was impossible to tell who was supposed to be there and who wasn't. About a third of them didn't even show up until nearly halfway through, after which Cornelius figured out to lock the gate. Anyone who showed up after that probably wasn't one of the sixty or so who were actually invited.

Once again, they were good. Franny was even a little surprised by her son's talent and how well he worked with the others. When he was alone or with the frogs, while he displayed good technique and was very good, he lacked passion. With his own group, he was really brilliant. It was also nice to see her baby as the star of the show. True, the group as a whole was very good, and the whole definitely seemed greater than the sum of the parts, but Wilbur was the obvious front man and ringleader. At times she greatly disliked his devilish smile and cocky attitude, but they really worked for him, here. His peers seemed to agree.

Afterward, though, he received a stern lecture from his dad, and the sentence of being grounded for the rest of winter break (but they were going to a cabin in the mountains to snowboard, would they leave Wilbur home?). His mother rescued him at the end of the lecture, though. It wasn't his fault so many so many showed up and it was really a testament to her son's hard work and gift. And maybe a bit of an ego stroke for her as she had taught him most of that, and what she hadn't, he came up with himself with the tools she gave him.

After the lecture, though, nearly everyone had left, and the stage was putting itself away, neatly. The only ones who remained were Wilbur's family, a few band-mates and their families and Riley. Wilbur thought about the talk he had with his mother a few days earlier. At first he thought it'd be hypocritical to bring it up today, as he enjoyed performing in front of his peers. Then he realized it was perfect to bring it up today. This was a prime example of what was wrong. He had gotten in trouble, and who knows what could have happened if all the ways into the house weren't sealed? The alarm was on and there were monitors all over the house, so they were sure no one had gotten in. But what if they had? What if someone destroyed something his father was working on, or stole something important or dangerous? What if someone had gotten hurt? Hundreds of teenagers he didn't know in his backyard was not an ideal situation. Any number of things could have gone wrong and they could have been screwed.

He took Riley to his room so they could talk. "That was awesome," his boyfriend told Wilbur, "You guys were so good. Did you see how many people showed up?" Oh could he give a better opener?

"Yeah," he answered regretfully, "about that. I'm actually upset at how many people showed up. This was supposed to be a small, intimate show," at 300 people, it still was, "just for close friends and family. I didn't even know half of those people. What if something bad happened? What if someone got into the house?"

"Whoa. Calm down. I didn't invite all those people. I'll admit, I told one person: Sophie. You know she wouldn't invite a ton of people. She might have told one or two, but most of those people were friends of the other guys, or friends of friends, or just people who found out and showed up. And I know it wasn't the ideal situation, but now that it's over and nothing went wrong, isn't it cool?"

"Okay, so it's not your fault. I'm still upset, just not at you. I don't like that a bunch of people just showed up at my house. I don't think it's cool."

"What's wrong?" he asked, genuinely concerned. Wilbur felt bad that he was thinking of ending it, as Riley really seemed to care. Wilbur cared, too. He didn't want to hurt the other boy, but if Wilbur wasn't happy, he shouldn't stay in the relationship. Dragging out would only make it worse, right? He wondered if, like he knew with Bell, Riley knew what was probably going to happen. But the problem wasn't just other people anymore. Franny was right, Riley had ignored Wilbur's complaint; and truth be told, Wilbur's feelings for the other boy had been waning for some time.

"I just don't like it. I hate being everyone's favorite gay guy. I want people to like or dislike me because of who I am, nothing else, not because I'm my dad's son or because I'm with another guy. I'm really getting sick of all this extra attention."

Riley looked at him disbelievingly. "You feel like you're getting too much attention?"

"I know. I never thought I'd say it, either. But it's not good attention. I feel like I'm putting on a show. I have to be so fake around everyone. I have to pretend to like people that I don't like or don't know so I don't hurt people's feelings. I didn't want to win that stupid contest, but when we did, I had to pretend I was happy because so many people wanted it for me and I'm sure someone worked hard to help us win. It's like receiving a gift you don't want, you still have to be grateful."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"When? I couldn't even hear you most of that time because of the loud music and all the other people around. With everyone looking, I can't screw up or say anything mean, because everyone will turn on me, and you may suffer the consequences."

"You can tell people you want to be left alone, you know."

"No, I can't. Well, I can, and I have but with you encouraging everyone to stick around, nothing ever comes of it. If I were louder or meaner, people would just think I'm rude or mean, because I don't want to spend all my precious free time," of which he had little considering the classes he was taking, his responsibilities at home (which had been lessened because of his schedule) swim team and band practice, "with a bunch of strangers."

"They're not strangers if you take the time to get to know them. You complain that they don't care who you are, but you don't seem to care who they are."

"How can you possibly get to know that many people so quickly? I do it without forfeiting more time than I have. I don't want to do that. I didn't want them in the first place. If they really want to be my friend, not just use me to make a statement or prove something, they'd talk to me about something I want to talk about. Instead, it's always how great we are for being 'out', how they look up to us or how they need advice on which shoes to wear with some stupid dress. Like I know."

"But if you automatically reject them, how do you know they don't have anything in common with you?"

"I don't. But they don't want to get to know me, either. They're faking too, you know. If they were really so open-minded, they wouldn't care. They wouldn't like us more because we're both guys. But they do."

"I have to say I don't agree with you. Plenty of people have used our relationship as an icebreaker, but gotten to know me. I've made a lot of actual friends."

"Well, I'm glad it's working so well for you. I don't want it. You can't make me like the situation. Try to convince me I'm being illogical. Fine. It's not about logic; it's about how I feel. The whole point of emotions is that they defy logic."

"So you're saying that even if I could convince you that you're being stupid, you wouldn't budge? I don't get it. What do you want?"

"I want you to stop encouraging them. If I say I don't want to hang out with someone, or I'm tired and just want to go home, I want you to back me up."

"Then I'll never get to hang out with any of my new friends."

"You can see them when I'm not around," he said, emphasizing the last three words.

Riley just now got what he meant. When he's not around. He was really willing to break up over this? "And if I don't agree?" he asked quietly.

Wilbur felt guilty again. For most of the argument, they'd been angrily snapping back at each other. But Riley paused this time and when he did speak, he sounded so vulnerable. He really didn't want to hurt him. He'd always been the one dumped, before. He had never been the one to initiate it. It hurt a lot more than he thought it would. "Then I can't see you anymore."

Riley looked down, swallowed and nodded. There wasn't really a question about it. Once they got to this point, the rift was a little too big to patch up. It's very difficult to recover from someone saying they want to break up with you. Maybe it was possible, but it wouldn't be easy. They'd be angry at each other for a long time, and it would require a lot of compromising to not just end up here, again. Neither really had the energy for that. He looked Wilbur in the eye again. "I'm sorry it didn't work out," he said soberly, voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," Wilbur responded, matching Riley's tone. Riley walked out of the room, but Wilbur's feet stayed planted to the ground. He knew it was coming and it had to be done. So why did he feel so awful?

* * *

"Sucks."

Wilbur shrugged. "I'm over it, now, obviously. For a while I beat myself up wondering why I didn't bring it up earlier. I thought maybe I could have saved it, but that wasn't the only problem."

"Yeah, my next relationship went pretty much like that. Well, it was different. But you'll see, won't you?"


	19. Can you hear me, now?

A/N: The part toward where the girl has good hearing at the end is based entirely on my experiences. I can tell where sounds are coming from in people's mouths and I can hear frequencies that 95 percent of humans cannot. I wish I was one of that 95 percent.

* * *

One summer afternoon, Cornelius was wandering through the sciences section of his local public library. He reached for a book that looked very interesting on quantum mechanics. He heard a faint, "Darn," from someone a few feet away. She was a girl around his age, maybe a little older, with auburn hair in two braids, and a frustrated look on her face."

"Did you want this one? I don't really need it."

"I don't _need_ it, either. You got to it first, so you can have it. I already have a few on the subject, anyway."

Cornelius was about to tell her that, really, it was fine and she could have it when he realized there was a second copy of the same book on the shelf. He took both books from the shelf and handed her one. "It very kindly duplicated itself, so no etiquette war is necessary," he told her. She laughed.

"Thanks. It actually will help me, a lot."

"Oh, well I'm just reading it for fun."

"Well I wanted it for help with an essay I'm writing for fun. It's on the intersection between quantum theory and eastern philosophy. I don't need to write it, I just want to."

"Sounds interesting."

"No it doesn't. But it's the dorky type of thing my friends and I do."

"You're talking to someone who is reading about quantum mechanics for fun. I think we're in the same boat, here."

"I guess. Well, I should go." And with that, she left.

A week later, Cornelius was ready to depart from his weekly trip to the library (well, it was more than weekly, especially now that he could drive himself, but if two or three trips were for different reasons, they didn't count). He had a large stack of books, and had scanned pages and pages of reference books onto his little external hard drive. Plus, it was getting late, dinner was probably going to be served soon. He stood in line waiting to check out. He was surprised to see the girl from last week in front of him, carrying a stack of books larger than his. It looked like there'd be a long wait, so he decided to make conversation.

"That's a lot to read," he said plainly. That was great. He probably sounded like an idiot.

She turned to face him, and smiled in recognition, "Yeah, I guess. I try to make it so I only have to lug books back and forth between here and home once a week. Never works, though." Why did that sound familiar? "Most summers I practically live here." Just after she said that last part, she very embarrassed. "Wow, that was really nerdy wasn't it?"

"I think I can top that."

"Oh?"

"Well, I'm sixteen, I just finished my MS in physics, and am taking a year off from school to work in a lab while I decide whether I want to go ahead and get my PhD in physics right now, or put that off to study chemistry or biomechanics. And by taking a year off, I mean I'll be taking three or four classes per semester, just not aimed at any specific degree."

Her eyebrows had slowly been rising throughout his little speech, but she was smiling. "You win."

"Told you so."

"I don't meet many people our age who can top me, especially since the high schools will letting out soon and everyone has already turned their brains off for the summer. Congrats. By the way, I'm Kylie."

"Cornelius." There was an awkward moment as their first instinct was to shake hands, but it wasn't possible at the moment as neither could hold all of their books in one arm. He noticed she had some neuroanatomy and neurophysiology books. "Interested in neuroscience?"

"Yeah. In the fall I'm going to NYU to study speech-language pathology & audiology, which takes a lot of neuroscience, so I may as well get started. Also, brains are cool."

"Yeah, they are." he said dumbly. Once again, he sounded like an idiot.

"Of course you'd think so. Yours works so well."

"Well, I don't know…" What was he supposed to say here? "I mean, I fail far more often than I succeed. And sometimes I go into full-on science mode and forget to do other things, like eat or sleep for days, which probably wouldn't happen if my brain really worked perfectly."

"You're one of the absentminded professor types, huh?" she seemed to have a sudden realization, "Wait. I thought you looked familiar. You're the guy that invented the memory-scanner, aren't you? I read a few articles on it."

"Uh yeah," he said somewhat embarrassed. "That was me."

"You know, up until now, everything I'd read about how our brains work made it sound like it shouldn't work. I really think it shouldn't. But it does. That's just crazy." She slowly added, "And you're sixteen now, meaning you invented it when you when you were twelve. Which makes you are ridiculously and monumentally smart. And here I was impressed by simple mundane phenomena."

"What do you mean by that?"

She was called to the desk to check her books out. "One minute, okay?" He nodded.

Since it appeared he was still interested in the conversation after they were both all checked out, she asked him, "Do you mind if we walk and talk for a couple blocks? I kind of need to get home."

"No problem. Can I just drop these off at my car first?"

"Sure." After dropping his books off, which was about an eight-foot detour, he asked her, "Why don't I help you with those?"

"Thanks." He then proceeded to take all of the books from her hands, as he was a gentleman. She would later tell him that he didn't need to do that as she was perfectly capable of carrying at least _some_ of her own books, and that chivalry was sexist; but for now she just smiled.

"What I meant was how much goes into just little things that pretty much everyone does every day. Like, well because it's my specialty, I've read a lot about speech and communication, so I'll use that. I just can't get over how amazing it is that abstract communication is even possible. It's almost like telepathy, you know?" No, he didn't. "I can talk about the story of Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill, and despite the fact that it's not happening in front of us, is not currently happening, anywhere, and didn't even actually occur, you get the picture. Other species just can't do that. I can make you think of the same thing I'm thinking at the same time as I'm thinking it. Isn't that magnificent?"

No, that's what communication is. "I guess." He did have to admit, though, that he found her enthusiasm very cute.

"You're unimpressed. Fine. But what about when you factor in all that goes into spoken language? I heard the sounds you made, figured out what words they were, like where one word ended and the other began, what they mean, and was able to add in your tone and facial expression to get what you were thinking. Then I formulated the response I wanted to give, and converted that into the sounds and therefore motor and respiratory movements I needed to make. Then, all together, the muscles in my mouth and in my tongue moved in such a way to make that first sound while my vocal cords got in the right position and my lungs expelled the proper amount of air. Only, I didn't just make one sound, so all that had to be in orchestrated together, in the right order and with correct timing, for 147 words in a row. And it's so fast that we're not even conscious of all that. Now, it's 168 words."

"You counted?" Cornelius wondered that if she knew she said that many words in a row, did she know it was too many?

"To make my point, yeah. Anyway, isn't that cool?"

"Yeah, I guess. I never really thought about it."

"No one thinks about it, unless it doesn't work for them or someone they know. They just do it. Then again, there is so much about life that is positively mind-boggling that we take for granted. Life itself is so tremendous, but we rarely take the time to contemplate it." He liked her attitude. So many people did just take life for granted, but she seemed to really appreciate it. It made him smile.

"Yeah it's strange isn't it?"

"Then again, I suppose that we have to take some things for granted. I mean if we all sat as stupefied as I am and thought about every little miraculous thing that took place, we'd never get anything done, would we?" So she was realistic, too. It would be nice if she could pick a side, though.

"I guess not."

"This is me," she said as they walked up to a small brick house with a white picket fence.

He didn't want to leave her. He was actually enjoying the conversation despite the fact that he didn't have much to say. At the very least he wanted to see her again. He could, if he just lived at the library; only, he had work to get done in the lab, and spending hours in the library just waiting for one person sounded pretty stupid. But he really wanted to talk with her again. "Hey, do you wanna go out sometime?"

She smiled. "Yeah." She then added regretfully, "But I should warn you whenever I go out with someone, my dad has to chaperone the first few dates. That usually scares guys off."

Cornelius shrugged. True, he hated the "meeting the parents" part, but he was definitely willing to try. "That's fine."

Smiled, knowingly. She knew he didn't like the idea, but apparently it wasn't bad enough to turn him away. She gave him her phone number and smiled, "See ya, later."

"Later." He was slightly conflicted, as he had just asked a girl out that he didn't know very well, but he did want to get to know her. Then again, a lot people got to know someone as they went out, right? It wasn't so strange.

* * *

Wilbur was cracking up. "I thought the chess tournament was the lamest place to meet a girl. You have proven me wrong by meeting this girl at a library. And you met mom at a science fair. Smooth."

"Once again, you're just jealous that I could pull it off. I doubt you're skilled enough to pick up a girl in a library."

"While I'd love to prove you wrong, I'm happy with my girlfriend right now, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to pick up a girl in a library."

"Oh right, I guess a girl who reads is a little above your level, huh?" This was totally untrue, but Wilbur went along with it, anyway.

"I don't need to read. I'm a rock star." Cornelius wanted to respond, but he was just laughing too hard. He still simply could not imagine Wilbur as a rock star.

* * *

Cornelius was about to go on his second date with Kylie when the doorbell rang. He was surprised, when he answered the door, to see Wilbur. Lovely. He couldn't remember exactly what it was, but Wilbur said something really stupid, and pestered him for a while. Finally, Cornelius was rid of the boy and able to go on his date.

* * *

"Hey!"

"Fine. I'll get on with the real story."

* * *

His third date with Kylie was one of his favorites. Partially because she was about to go off to college where he couldn't watch her, anyway, and partly because he trusted Cornelius, Kylie's father let them go out on their own for the first time that night. They were sitting across from each other in a small restaurant. In fact, the subject of her father came up.

"I know it's annoying, and has scared some guys off, but I understand why my dad is so overprotective. As far as the guys he's scared off, maybe that's a good thing, you know? What were they planning on doing on the first few dates that they couldn't do in front of my dad?"

"Makes sense."

"Really, though, there are two main reasons. First, he doesn't like my friends, so he's a bit suspicious of anyone I'd go out with."

"What's wrong with your friends?"

"They're kind of hippies, which he doesn't like. But they're the 'All You Need is Love' kind, not the 'I am the Walrus' kind." Cornelius laughed and appreciated her categorization by Beatles songs.

"Oh, but what could be more romantic than 'Yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog's eye'?" Just after he said that he realized it was on a date, moments before their food arrived. Oops. But it was okay because she laughed.

"I don't know," she told him, "'Well I'd rather see you dead, little girl/than to be with another man' comes pretty close." That was a particularly creepy song.

"I'd forgotten about that one. I think that was on purpose. I take it, you're a big Beatles fan."

"Yeah. My mom really loved them."

"Loved?"

"Oh right. I didn't tell you, did I? That's the other reason my dad had to make sure the guys I date are responsible. When I was seven, I slept over at a friend's house, and when my parents came to pick me up, they were in an accident, caused by a reckless teenage driver. My mom died, and so did the teenager and his passenger."

"I'm so sorry." For some reason, he was reminded of Wilbur's story about when Bell's brother died. It must have been very traumatic.

She shrugged, "It was a long time ago. I mean, it'll be a whole decade next month." She paused as if just realizing the fact she just stated. "It feels really weird to say that. Anyway, that wasn't all. My dad was really badly injured, too. He was in the hospital for months, and it was over a year before he could take care of me, again. My only living relative had Alzheimer's disease, so I spent that time in an orphanage. It would have been one thing if my mom died and my dad I just had to get on with our lives, but it was a lot scarier than that. I was so worried my dad was gonna die, too, and I'd spend the rest of my childhood in that awful place. My dad still feels kind of guilty about it."

"I've been there," he quickly corrected himself, "I mean the orphanage part, not the part about you losing your mom and almost losing your dad, too. I spent the first twelve years of my life in an orphanage. I only invented the memory scanner after I gave up on being adopted. Ironically, I never would have met my parents if I hadn't invented it."

"Oh. You poor thing," she said sympathetically. "And I thought my year in one was awful."

"Well, it was a very different experience. You were grieving for your mother and afraid you'd lose your father, who probably would have been your main source of support, otherwise; and you were used to living at home, so it was probably a jarring exchange, as you knew what you were missing. I hated it, but I didn't really know any other life. I wanted to be adopted, but I imagine the prospect of adoption was dreadful to you."

"It was. My parents were my parents, you know?" she paused, then added, "If you weren't so good at other stuff, I think you'd make a good therapist."

"I get that a lot. The funny thing is, I used to be terrible at this. I didn't understand other people at all, and had no clue where they were coming from. Don't ask me what changed, though."

"Well, considering so many of our conversations are me blathering on incessantly, I'd say it's because you're a good listener. Most people just wait for their turn to talk. I'd also postulate that it happened after you were adopted in which case you weren't as worried about being accepted, because someone had accepted you. So your focus shifted from yourself to the person speaking. If that is the case, though, you are way too old to be sixteen." He laughed at that.

"You're not too bad at this, either."

"Well, it is part of my future job description. Not just listening to how sounds are made, but to what people are saying. A lot of kids with speech problems have been abused or have some sort of emotional disturbance."

"That sounds like a really sad career choice."

She shrugged. "I'd rather know I was helping those kids and than not know they were being helped. Actually, that's how I realized this was what I wanted to do. In the orphanage, I had three roommates. The one that slept above me on the top bunk was just waiting for her parents to get their act together, you know?" He got the idea. "Anyway, she had a speech impediment, and the first thing I thought wasn't 'she talks funny' or anything like that. It was 'her Ss come from too far back in her mouth."

"Wow, how did you know that?"

"I just have really sensitive hearing. Which is why I think I'd be good at this. It's also why I always listen to music at volumes a lot of people can't hear and I never ever go to rock concerts."

"No loud noises. Got it." That might prove to be difficult if she ever came to his house. Oh well.

* * *

"That's a weird coincidence that she was in an orphanage, too."

"I know. I wasn't expecting that. But after that, we were a lot closer. Partially because we had both said things that made us vulnerable and partially because we just understood each other in a different way than other people."

"I see. So did she ever come to your-our house?" Wilbur wasn't sure what the proper possessive adjective was there.

"Once."

"Didn't go so well?"

"It was awful. It wasn't just the minor explosions and crashes, either. Apparently one of the inventions I was working on emitted a very high pitched noise that the rest of us could not hear, but drove her nuts."

"What, like a dog?"

"Ah yes. What a great way to score points with your father: call his last girlfriend a dog."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then choose your words more carefully."

* * *

Review, please.


	20. Another Believer

* * *

A/N: This one took me a while for two reasons. First, I had a lot of other work to do. Second, I had writer's block for this specific chapter. I wrote a huge portion of two chapters that come way later, but I had trouble with this one. I started it eight times.

* * *

Cornelius had to watch three-and-a-half year old Laszlo for the day as his parents were taking Tallulah to the doctor and his parents were at work. Kylie invited herself over when she heard this, as she positively adored Laszlo. The feeling was mutual, apparently. This was probably because she gave him her nearly undivided attention and enjoyed finger painting nearly as much as he did. Ever since Tallulah was born nearly a year earlier, this was rather rare, for the boy.

"Wow," she told the little boy, he showed her his painting. Cornelius was not finished with his, yet. "That's really great! Do you want to tell me about your painting?"

She had taken a few child development courses at the local community college as she was interested in working with children and bored with school. She had all these theories about it all that she tried to implement when she saw the boy. Rule number one was supposed to be never praise the quality of something they did because it teaches them to do things for praise not because it's what they want, feel or think. The phrase "good job" was strictly prohibited. She always broke this rule very quickly.

"It's night-time and this is," he said indicating part of his picture, "the sky with stars in it, and this," he pointed to the bottom, "is the city where all the people live. Everyone is asleep right now."

"Oh," she said enthusiastically. "You should show your painting to Neili." Lazlo couldn't pronounce Cornelius's name, and called him "Neili". Cornelius did not mind this at all from the boy. He made the mistake of mentioning this on their first date (it was relevant to the conversation) and she took to calling him by the name sometimes, just because she knew it annoyed him when it came from an adult. Oh well.

Laszlo turned around and showed Cornelius his painting. Cornelius's eyes widened. It was a pretty good version of Van Gogh's _"Starry Night"._ Cornelius knew he couldn't reproduce it that well, himself at age sixteen. Laszlo was not even four. The teenager looked down at his own green microscope. It looked like an abstract, under-ripe banana. Oh well. He figured since Kylie had already broken her own rule today, he could brake it, too. "Wow, Laz! That's really good. Did you see a painting like that, or did you think it up yourself?" There was chance that he did not remember it. His paintings and drawings usually came with interesting stories. Well, they were funny.

"I saw it in the museum. Mommy and Daddy took me. Tallulah stayed home with aunt Lucy and uncle Bud, and it was my special day. There were a lot paintings and some sculptures, and clay bowls, but those were boring. Oh and there was a knight's armor. It was shiny."

"Sounds fun."

He nodded. "Can we go to the park, now?"

"Sure. Let's clean up first, though." Cornelius had learned the hard way, that when Laszlo asks to go to the park, you either take him to the park, just take him outside where there is a large open area or put him in a padded room; as it meant he had excess energy and would commence running until it was all used up. Everywhere. He bumped into people and things and did not care at all, even if he was bleeding. He also climbed on things and people that he should not climb on. It only took thirty seconds for him to find his way to a very high ledge so he could jump off and crack his skull open if Cornelius did not catch him. So the park it was. It was probably good practice for Wilbur, though.

At the park, they took turns pushing Laszlo on the swings and catching him at the bottom of the slide, though they both kept an eye him. He could be pretty sneaky and got into trouble way too easily. Eventually, the boy was tired and they went back home. Fritz and Petunia were just coming home with Tallulah at the same time. The young couple handed the child off to his parents, and spent some time alone.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this," Kylie started ominously, "But you are so much cuter when you take care of Laszlo." Cornelius actually agreed. Often seeing a girl taking care of a child in a sweet, maternal manner made her more attractive.

"Why shouldn't you say that to me?"

"Because most guys head for the hills when a girl says something like that."

Cornelius shrugged, "It doesn't scare me. I feel the same way, actually. It makes sense, evolutionarily."

"I know. But it goes against what were conditioned to think. Young people, and guys especially are repeatedly bombarded with images of happiness being equated with going out drinking every weekend and having a lot of one-night stands. The opposite of commitment."

"I know. I guess I'm a little immune to that. I have trouble imagining a worse way to willingly spend my youth."

"Well then you're smarter than most guys; and in a different sense than all your education and inventions and stuff. I don't get how you derive happiness from that, but all of my male friends think commitment is scary."

"And a constant stream of one-night stands isn't?" It's so dangerous, and not just physiologically (though that prospect was rather frightening).

"It doesn't make sense to me, either." She paused, then added, "I know you and I aren't gonna get married and have kids or anything, at the very least because I'm leaving in August, but it's still comforting to know you think that way."

Cornelius always knew this would end, and even though he knew she was leaving, he didn't realize that she knew that. "Ditto. I was wondering, does it make you feel weird to know this is gonna end kind of soon?"

"Not really. I went into it knowing that. Also, we're so young it's not like it was likely to last, anyway. You knew that, right? That we have to split up when I go."

"Yeah," he said, failing to hid that twinge of regret. It was weird because he knew this couldn't last going in and figured it was just for the summer, but it still made him sad to think about it. "Do you ever wonder what we're doing? I mean, we both knew going into this that it couldn't last long, so what's the point?" It was a relief, though, to know that she did not expect this to go on forever when he obviously knew it wouldn't.

She looked at him like she was confused for a moment. "We're having fun. You do know how to do that, right?" she asked making fun of him. "Why shouldn't we? I think it's better to just have the experience and good memories and know it was never anything serious, than not to and wonder what it would have been like. I can't say it'll only bring joy because it won't be fun when I have to go, but I'd rather have that joy and that pain than have neither."

"Yeah, I guess." It was still strange, to him.

* * *

"What, so you'd rather she didn't expect it? Doesn't that just hurt more?"

"I guess. I never really experienced that side. It was comforting that she already knew, but it was strange, too."

"Whatever. Oh for future references, leave out all that commitment & kids stuff."

"You know if I didn't think that way, you probably wouldn't exist."

"There are a lot of things that are necessary for me to exist that I don't want to think about." Cornelius had to laugh at the face Wilbur made.

* * *

They were just hanging out with Cornelius' friends tonight at Alexis and Greg's house. Franny and Lizzy were the last to arrive. Franny looked very happy, which made Cornelius smile. "Alright," Alexis started, "What's so great? Why do you look like Christmas came early?"

"Do I?" Franny asked innocently. Cornelius wondered if this had anything to do with the guy she'd been dating recently. Cornelius had really warmed up to the guy and thought they were actually pretty well matched.

"Uh yeah. What's up?" Alexis asked. Lizzy rolled her eyes.

"I gave up on the stupid frogs. It feels strangely liberating." What? No.

"What? You can't give up on the frogs!" Cornelius responded nervously.

"Why not? I think I've wasted enough of my youth on a silly fantasy from when I was, like, ten. If it's not happening after five years, it's not happening."

"It _is_ possible. I know you can do it." Was she blushing? It was slight, but Cornelius could have sworn it was there.

"You think I can do it. You don't know it. You also think people will travel in bubbles someday. You believe some strange things."

"Just because they're strange doesn't mean they can't happen. And I do know you can."

Kylie tapped on his shoulder. "What are we talking about?"

"Franny teaches music to frogs," he told his girlfriend.

"Taught," Franny corrected.

"Hmm," she replied, as she appeared to think about it for some time.

"I think it's about time. Good decision, Franny," Greg told her.

"Wait," Cornelius addressed him, "Didn't she leave a singing frog in your locker, once? I think that would indicate that it's possible." Franny looked extremely embarrassed that he brought it up.

"It didn't really sing; it would kind 'ribbit' in a simple tune," Greg informed.

"Well, that's something, isn't it? Sounds impressive to me," Cornelius attempted to persuade. Franny was definitely blushing, though not very extremely. Lizzy looked at her and chuckled quietly.

"I think you can do it," Kylie interjected. Franny and Cornelius both raised an eyebrow at her. "When I was little I had some pet frogs and when I couldn't get to sleep I'd just stay up listening to them. They all had distinct sounds, not just in pitch, but almost like a voice. It drove my roo- friends crazy when they slept over." Cornelius caught that she almost said roommates, but hoped the others didn't. She didn't like talking about the whole thing when in a group as it was awkward, and tended to bring people down. "Anyway, I used to wonder if someone could use that to make music. It didn't occur to me to teach it to the frogs themselves. But now that I think about it, with some work and selective breeding, I'm sure it's possible."

"Then you do it," Franny told her, "I haven't made any progress in months and am, quite frankly, fed up with it. You can even have my frogs if you want. Two of them can play scales on a very small piano, but that's it. I think they've peaked."

"Well maybe they're developing in other areas. I know that with children, while they are going through a period of developmental progress in one area, there is often a temporary regression in some other area. Like, when I started to understand fractions, I backslid on spelling for a few weeks. Your frogs could be going through the same thing, just in areas you can't see."

"That may be. But I'm tired of not seeing progress where I want it. It doesn't matter, anyway. What I originally envisioned is impossible."

"No it's not," Cornelius insisted.

"Quit it," Franny told him, obviously annoyed.

"Of course it's your choice," Kylie offered, "but you might consider just taking a break. Don't even think about it for a few months, maybe a year. If you still don't want to do it, fine. But you might find you miss it, or figure something out that works. I just don't think you should throw it all away, yet. If you're half as smart as Cornelius says you are, I'm sure you could accomplish it, even if it was impossible for anyone else." What was that supposed to mean?

"Fine. Whatever." And just like that, Franny's good mood had been sucked away. Maybe they shouldn't have done that. Nothing Cornelius could do about it, now. She cheered up in a little while, anyway.

* * *

"I cannot imagine mom giving up on the frogs."

"She took them up again after a two month break."

"So your girlfriend essentially convinced her not to?"

"Well, I wasn't having much success, so yeah."

"Interesting."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

Please review.


	21. Duh

A/N: There is a little drug use in this chapter (not by our protagonists, of course- and it's not portrayed as a good thing). I don't know about you people, but, while I've never used drugs, I've been offered marijuana (and worse) at least a dozen times. More often by my older sibling's friends than my own, and more in high school than in college, but there was a little of each. It really freaked me out the first time, but eventually I got used to it. The worst was when it was someone who lived in my apartment who "hot boxed" the bathroom. The whole place smelled of it for hours, and we all had to use a neighbor's bathroom for the rest of the night. Blegh. It was really bad because one of my friends was pregnant and she and her husband hung out at my place all the time until then. Whatever. I'm so glad to be rid of that. I hope you all never have to deal with it.

* * *

Cornelius and Kylie had been together about six weeks when they were hanging out with his friends again. There was a debate over whether there was anything morally wrong with genetically engineering unborn children so they have certain, non-survival related traits that the parents prefer (like sex, hair color, approximate height etc.). It just so happened that Cornelius and most of the girls thought it sounded wrong (it might eliminate diversity from the population, which is necessary for survival, if nothing else) while the guys and Lizzy saw nothing wrong with it. The debate had been going on for some time, but they weren't really getting anywhere.

"I think we're at a stand-still," Alexis conceded.

"Yeah," her twin brother, Greg agreed, "I guess this is just one of those issues that'll always end with the boys verses the girls."

"No," Franny told him, "You have Liz and we have Cornelius."

"Like he said," Franny's boyfriend, Ethan responded,"_boys verses__**girls**_." He and the other guys laughed. That was a low blow. Ethan had been doing that sort of thing a lot lately, but did he really have to say that in front of Kylie? Cornelius had been called a sissy and girl a few times before, as he wasn't the constantly trying to prove his masculinity. He did what he thought was right or felt like doing, regardless of supposed gender roles. It wasn't like he wore dresses, or anything. He was just polite, not very competitive, not into sports, didn't view women as mere sex objects and didn't care whose was bigger. Honestly, he thought his chivalry made him more masculine; girls definitely appreciated it, anyway.

Lizzy punched Ethan in the shoulder at the precise moment that Franny hit him in the stomach. It looked like it hurt. A lot. "What was that for?" he asked.

"Calling me a boy," Lizzy said through gritted teeth.

"And using my gender as an insult!" Franny said indignantly, "You do that again, I won't be so nice." Ouch. Cornelius believed her. She could kick pretty hard from what he'd seen (on her brothers- whom she never wanted to injure seriously; he didn't want to know what she was capable of when she wasn't holding back). And he was pretty sure she wasn't afraid to kick where it would really hurt. Cornelius also made note of why she hurt him. He hadn't used gender as an insult since he was maybe four or five, but he'd be sure never to even think about it again.

Kylie, who had rolled her eyes at Ethan's comment, whispered to Cornelius, "He's so jealous of you." Was he? "He thinks Franny likes you." Then she chuckled like it was silly to even suggest. Did she, though?

Cornelius felt uncomfortable. Until recently, he had grown to like this guy. Now it seemed he was trying to fight with Cornelius over Franny while Cornelius had his own girlfriend he was interested in, and Franny clearly really liked Ethan. She talked about him all the time when he wasn't there; and when he was, she was easily distracted by him and always looking at him with that dreamy smile. He imagined that maybe Franny talked about Cornelius a lot, like he did about her, but they were best friends and were very important to each other, so it made sense. It was perfectly platonic.

He looked at Kylie who still had a silly smile on her face. She looked so pretty like that. He kissed her and her smile grew wider. Cornelius felt good. When he looked back up, Ethan was shooting Cornelius an angry look. Maybe it had nothing to do with Franny. Maybe he just didn't like Cornelius and didn't want to see him happy. Whatever it was, he decided to try to hang out with the guy as little as possible, which might be difficult as Franny liked when they went on double dates. Oh well.

* * *

"And you two aren't together, yet." Wilbur sounded confused.

"Not yet."

"But Kylie was right, wasn't she?"

"Not entirely."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll see."

"Just tell me."

"No."

* * *

Cornelius was not getting along very well with his male friends. It had gotten worse after Ethan's remark. They continued to imply that he wasn't very masculine often teasing him about things he did out of chivalry or manners, or just his usual quirkiness. They all made fun of each other sometimes, but it seemed he was the butt of it all whenever Ethan was around. Okay, Cornelius was weird. So was everyone else, though. And it's not like any of them were shining examples of masculinity. In fact, Lizzy and Franny were more masculine than most of the guys, and they usually wore dresses. So, he decided for a little while, he'd distance himself from them as a group (though he could hang out with just the girls).

So tonight they were hanging out with Kylie's friends, for the third time in two weeks. Cornelius discovered he liked her friends. They were a little hippie-ish, but not in a bad way. They, like his friends, spent a lot of time discussing real issues and aspects of society. Unlike his friends, though, they were more concerned with general philosophy and questioning the rules. Also, most of her friends had already been in college for at least a year, so they were a little older (18 and 19), but he didn't find that the age disparity caused any problems.

"Well, Dylan," a girl Rachel told a guy with long hair, "if there is no such thing as a soul, and it is in fact all a product off a few million nerve cells, do you think there is a specific part of the brain that could be isolated and said to contain a person's consciousness?"

"Nope," he answered, "I think what we consider out identity is too complex and spread out over the brain. Not that I know. What do you think, Encyclopedia Brown?" This was their nickname for Cornelius. He found it strange as they all seemed to know a lot, too; and, like Waverly, had wider breadths of knowledge. But he didn't mind it.

"There is a common misconception that it's all in the frontal lobe, but what makes up consciousness is actually in many different parts of the brain. I think it would be interesting, though, if we could transplant part of a dying person's brain into the brain of someone who can no longer think consciously. So someone's consciousness would not only exist in another's body, but actually in someone else's brain. Or if it could be kind of split between the so they had memories from both."

Rachel shrugged. Dylan smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it'd be interesting. Planning an experiment?"

Cornelius chuckled, "Maybe if I were a sociopathic neurosurgeon. But I have a conscience, no medical degree and no desire to cut people open, so I'd say no. I'll stick to messing with machines for now."

"Damn!" he said jokingly, "I wanted to see what would happen."

"Talk to a neurosurgeon who's a sociopath." Cornelius paused, then added, "But be careful, they might decide to use you as a test subject." Dylan laughed.

Someone new arrived and everyone seemed very excited. Cornelius thought it was very sweet that they got so animated over a friend. Until said new person took something out of his pocket, and Cornelius realized that was why they were so excited. It was a small plastic Ziploc baggie with something green in it. Was that…? Someone took out a glass pipe. It was. They offered him some "bud" he but politely declined, and nobody seemed to care. They didn't even offer any to Kylie. The room, though, seemed to close in on him anyway. Cornelius was suddenly very uneasy, and understood why Kylie's father didn't like them. This was not the first time he was offered marijuana, strangely, but it still freaked him out. He couldn't just sit there and pretend nothing was going on.

He asked to speak to Kylie out in the hall. "I want to go home," he told her.

"What? Why?"

"Um, because people are using marijuana in there."

"So what? They're not gonna force us to smoke. I'm not sure if you noticed, but they didn't even offer it to me because I never do. They have no problem with that."

"Yeah, but what about getting a contact high? Just because we won't smoke doesn't mean it can't hurt us."

She rolled her eyes at him. "One, ninety percent of that is placebo effect. Two, it's a well-ventilated room." From what he had read and heard, usually people who smoked marijuana tried to do it in closed confined areas to make the air more concentrated with smoke. Cornelius wasn't sure if their inattention to this concept made them smarter or dumber. No, it was definitely smarter. "Chill out, it's just a little weed."

Cornelius couldn't believe his ears. "It's just a little _illegal drug_," he told her.

"I think you need to calm down."

"No, I need to go. I'm just not comfortable, here. I'm amazed you can stay so calm."

"Are you judging me for wanting to stay here?"

"What? No. If you can stay, that's good for you. I can't. It makes me too anxious."

"Well, I'm not going, yet." She was trying to keep him there. He was her ride and he couldn't leave her stranded. She thought he just needed to calm down and get used to it. He'd never do that, if he left, of course. She didn't realize he'd never do that, anyway."

"Fine," he told her disappointedly, "Call me when you need a ride." He wasn't planning on driving away; he was just going to go out to his car and read or something. He was almost done with the room-sized insta-building (full skyscraper sized ones might take a little longer), so he had something to work on.

She looked angry. "Never mind. Let's just go home." They said goodbye and Cornelius drove them home. They were both silent for the whole ride.

* * *

"So she thought it just wasn't a big deal, despite the fact that she was too smart to do it herself?" Wilbur asked, confused.

"Yeah."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why didn't she try to stop them?"

"I don't know. Maybe she did, once. I was too bothered by it to think about that. That's another thing, though. Talking about something is one thing, but never actually _do_ anything you're not comfortable with."

"Duh. I doubt I would've stayed at that place, in your position. I don't get why she would."

Cornelius shrugged. "It didn't bother her that much. She said it did in the beginning, but if it was between having friends that smoked marijuana and not having friends, I can see how she might opt to get used to it."

* * *

The next day Cornelius called to apologize. His tone had been a little harsh, the night before, and acting like he was going to abandon her was mean. The situation could have been far worse, anyway. The boy had to admit he sort of understood why they smoked marijuana even though they otherwise seemed very smart. They were the type of people who weren't really challenged by school and life. They had all those unused brain cells screaming at them in boredom. Cornelius had been one of those people; but to silence the nagging of the unused portions of his intellect, he thought up inventions, and when he was old enough, figured out ways to actually make them. Kylie wrote random essays that challenged her. These people, apparently, never found something that really satisfied that need. So, instead of doing something with those dormant neurons, they killed them.

They decided to meet in person when he was done in the lab that day to talk. "Hey, Cornelius," she greeted him, "I'm really sorry about last night. I didn't realize just how much it bothered you. I mean, the first time it happened around me, I was a little freaked out, but once I realized they didn't care if I did it, it didn't bother me, anymore. I thought you were just being stubborn, at first. If I knew how much it really bothered, I would have agreed to go home right away."

He nodded, "I guess I can kind of get that." The conversation was still awkward and they were very distant, physically.

"Look," she told him, "Maybe it's time to just call this off. It was supposed to be just for fun, and it's starting to not be fun, anymore. I'm leaving in two weeks, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess."

She looked conflicted for a moment. "And, I'm not sure I should tell you this, but I think you have feelings for someone else. I'll let you figure out who." Cornelius shrugged this off. She wasn't the best at reading him, sometimes. If Franny had said that, it would be different. She smiled and said, "No hard feelings, okay?"

"No hard feelings," he told her. He wasn't that bothered by it ending. He didn't allow himself to develop really deep feelings for her, because it was going to be so short-lived. Yeah, it was a little sad, but not terrible. They went their separate ways.

A few days later, Cornelius was working on a design for his shrink ray when it hit him. He knew what Kylie meant. Then, it was so obvious. How dumb did he have to be to miss it? And for so long? It wasn't just a little crush, either. Now that he thought about it, he realized he was head over heels in love. He thought about her all the time. Even whether or not he had more than friendly feelings for her. Usually that was enough of an indicator. If he had to think about whether or not he likes a girl, he liked her. But he always just chalked it up to what he'd seen.

Half an hour later, there was knock at the lab's door, which made him realize how long he'd been thinking about it. Waverly, who he was friends with, again, had come to return a few books she borrowed and see how the insta-building was going. She asked if he was okay, as he looked like he was bothered by something. It might be weird to talk to her about it, considering, but he felt like he had to tell someone, and who would understand better?

"Something is kind of bothering me, I guess," he said uncertainly.

"What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath. "I think I'm in love with Franny."

She smiled and told him, "Took you long enough."

"You know?"

"It's pretty obvious, Hun. I mean, my feelings for Franny didn't bother me _that_ much. I still liked you a whole lot more, and it wasn't like I'd never had a crush on a girl, before. What freaked me out was when I realized you had the same problem. It was just a little too weird, then."

"If you knew I loved her, why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought this was just one of those things you had to figure out on your own. I was getting impatient, though," she was still smiling and chuckling a little. "But it was like I had my own little soap opera to watch between you, Kylie, Franny and Ethan." She was joking about that last part.

"I'm glad you find it so amusing," he said sarcastically. Then a thought struck him. "That's why Ethan hates me. Kylie thought he thought Franny liked me, but it was the other way a round, huh? He thought I was trying to steal her, especially when I kept going on about the frogs and how smart she was." He did end up going on about that for a week or two.

"Uh, yeah." Cornelius was pretty sure she didn't believe it. "That's probably it. Don't obsess over it too much. You'll drive yourself crazy. Just try to pretend nothing's wrong." That was easy for her to say. She was completely over he feelings Franny. "You can hang out with her when he's not around, still." This was true. Actually, he had been able to hang out with Franny a lot lately. Apparently, Ethan was very busy.

"What if he tells her, though?" Cornelius asked. Being in love with his best friend while her boyfriend knew probably wasn't the best situation. Especially now that he was no longer attached to anyone.

Waverly shrugged. "I don't think he will. You didn't tell me about Jonathan, remember? He'd probably be too scared she'd run off with you."

"Yeah, I guess. There's nothing I can do about it now, right?"

"Right."

* * *

"Oh, I get it. He hated you because he knew you liked Franny and figured that spending so much time with her was a ploy."

"Yeah. That's what he thinks."

"He still thinks that?"

"Apparently. Only it's worse, now."

"What do mean?"

"Well, Franny's too angry with me to speak to me right now," he said reluctantly.

"What?!" Wilbur didn't like this, "What did you do?"

"Why don't you ask me when I'm married and have figured out how to resolve it?" Cornelius asked, irritated.

"Okay, okay. Chill."

"Your turn, again."

* * *

A/N: Okay, only two more stories: Wilbur and his current girl, Sophie, and **Cornelius and Franny**. Yay!


	22. I Want to Hold Your Hand

A/N: So I got my laptop back! I don't know how long it'll last, though, as earlier in the year, it was out of my hands for nearly two months while it would be away for a week or so to be repaired, be sent back, but still not functional, and go back to the shop the very next day (for about a week, again). Sometimes it would be good for two or three days, then go boom, again. Apple promises me that if it needs to be repaired again, they're just replacing it but they've said that twice already, so I don't believe them. So my updates may be sporadic for a while (and when we're so close to the end).

Sorry this took so long and sorry if it's disjointed. I wrote about two thirds of it over a week ago, and my brain had totally moved on by the time I had the time and computer to write it, again. I'm not happy with this chapter, but the more I try to work on it, the more my mind drifts to other things, so it's time to post.

* * *

Wilbur went home empty-handed. Oh well. He'd figure something out. He would just take her aside and ask her, but he got nervous, and his voice had taken to the annoying habit of cracking when he spoke to her. Also, they usually saw each other in a large group, and it was weird to just take her aside. Plus, he wanted to do something creative. Wilbur Robinson was never boring.

He saw her in his second period class, AP physics. The usual butterflies returned to his stomach. She smiled at him and waved. He waved back. She knew. She probably liked him, too. She wouldn't tease him so much if she didn't. And, Lord, did she tease him. The worst was when she kissed him on the cheek, or whispered something in his ear. She just had to be so damn alluring. She was very cute, too. She was small, barely above five feet tall, and with her sweet dimpled smile, looked so innocent. She wasn't, though. He had once flipped through her sketchpad (with her permission, of course), most of which was for her art class, but there were a few drawings in there that weren't appropriate to be turned in as school assignments. Also, she was the only girl he knew who outshone Wilbur at telling dirty jokes. She actually managed to embarrass him, once. That was really when he fell in love with her. She was smart, sexy and beat him at his own game. She was good.

--

Lunch had just started and now that he no longer had to pay attention to anything Wilbur's mind drifted back to Sophie. He reached the spot where he and his friends hung out. She was already there, talking to some of his friends (his last class before lunch just had to be one of the farthest from the quad). It was weird, she was obviously smart as she was taking and passing a lot of the same advanced classes Wilbur was, and seemed to understand it all, if her test scores were any indicator. But sometimes, she acted a little dumb. Also, she could be shallow at times. Scratch that, she acted shallow, sometimes. She wasn't, though. In fact, on occasion she said things that were way beyond Wilbur. He wasn't that deep, himself.

"I still can't believe Rory cursed out Mr. Lichtman in the middle of class. Seriously, he used to be such a little goody-two-shoes," Wilbur's friend, Liam, commented.

"Rory had no choice. Mr. Lichtman is totally at fault for this one," another friend, Beck, responded.

"You can't say that!" Sophie interrupted. The two boys looked at her, questioningly. "I mean, yeah you can say it, but it's a terrible argument. By that logic, no one is ever responsible for any of his or her own actions. Every action is caused. Simple laws of physics, right? By that line of thinking, everything that's happened is an inevitable reaction caused by something else, from the formation of the universe to me stealing Wilbur's apple." See? If she were really that shallow, she wouldn't have come up with that. And he didn't want the apple, anyway.

"Wait," their friend, Beck, asked, "Is that true? I mean, I can't imagine an uncaused action in terms of physics. So does that mean that everything is predetermined? I mean every action _is_ caused by something."

"Actually," Wilbur offered, "Subatomic particles don't behave by those rules, so not everything works like that."

"I don't think I'm a subatomic particle," Beck told him.

Sophie rolled her eyes. "No, the world does not work like that. At least, I don't think it does. Sure feels like you have free will, doesn't it? My point was that if you're going to say someone else caused a person's actions, you could say that about anyone. But, unless harm is threatened, it doesn't work like that. We choose, and are responsible for, our own actions. Non-living objects are at the mercy of whatever forces act on them. People are lucky enough to decide which non-physical forces act on us the strongest. Is what your mother said when she told you violence was wrong, or is it the guy across from you who is badmouthing her? It's scary when you think about it, but people have been acquitted for murder because lawyers convinced juries that something else put the idea in their mind and caused them to do it. The murderer was just a victim of circumstance, even though it was premeditated. You can't let yourself fall for that sort of lazy justification. Otherwise, why do anything good? It's all someone else's fault, right?" She took a bite of the apple.

"I guess you're right," another guy, Liam, told her. "How'd you know that thing about people getting away with murder?"

"I've just discovered this wonderful thing called a library. You should check it out sometime." Wilbur laughed and Liam shot him an angry look.

The rest of lunch was uneventful. Eventually, the warning bell rang and they had to go off to class. As she walked by him, Sophie's hand brushed against Wilbur's and she smiled at him, again, then quickly walked off. A jolt of electricity traveled up his arm. He wanted to hold that hand so bad. That was it! He had figured it out! He'd do it tomorrow evening. Why did he not think of it earlier? It was sweet, like she was. Yet old fashioned and innocent, like she wasn't, and just enough to tease. It was so perfect. It turned out he didn't need anyone else's advice, as he had all the advice he needed all along. Why did he think he needed other people's help?

He practiced after school on Thursday and Friday; this had to be perfect. Frankie, Sammie, Dean and Peter were nice enough to help the kid out on this one. He loved those frogs. They were the best bandmates ever. Friday evening rolled around and he packed up the frogs' equipment and his guitar, picked up the frogs, hopped on his skateboard and flew away.

He quickly set up the small stage for the frogs on her lawn then called her and told her to come to her window. She appeared at and opened the window. She had a couple friends over, it seemed, as two other girls showed up at her side, looking just as curious as she was. Even better. "What are you doing, Wilbur?" she sounded worried that he was going to do something cringeworthy. He was.

He just smiled. The five of them started playing while Wilbur sang, "_Oh yeah, I'll tell you something/I think you'll understand/When I'll say that something/I want to hold your hand/I want to hold your hand/I want to hold your hand."_ He kept playing. Her mother and little brother were at the living room window, now. They was getting people's attention.

She was smiling and blushing intensely, obviously embarrassed. "I hate you!" she told him. This, of course, only made him smile more, because it was just the right type of hate that really meant she loved him. He continued with his song. One of her friends said something to her, and then the two disappeared from their spot at the window. Wilbur was sure they were coming downstairs. Sure enough they reemerged at her front door. _Yes!_

A lady, who was walking her dog, stopped to listen, so did a man who was running by. It wasn't something people saw everyday. Judging by people's faces, they were pretty good. Either that, or Wilbur was completely insane. He walked up to her and her friend. "_And when I touch you I feel happy inside_," it was his turn to tease her, though, as he stayed just out of reach. At "_I can't hide,"_ he backed up a little, and she leaned forward almost as though she were attached by a string. Oh, this was going swimmingly. They finished their song; and Wilbur moved his guitar to his back, looked at her with an innocent, questioning smile, and held out his hand. She walked forward, took it, and kissed him on the cheek. Then she whispered in his ear, "You're lucky you're so cute," and kissed him on the lips. Mission accomplished.

* * *

"I've gotta give you credit for that one. I never would have thought of it."

"Yeah, you also can't play the guitar, so it wouldn't have worked if you had thought of it, and had friends to back you."

"I can, a little, and I could get Franny to teach me the rest. If she weren't the one I was trying to ask out," he added almost as an afterthought.

"Oh, if only it weren't for that tiny insignificant detail that the one girl who might be able to help you get a date is both the one you're after and taken," Wilbur mocked.

"Shut up."

* * *

They wouldn't get to see each other much in school in the next week as it was finals week and the class schedules were funny, which was why he had to ask her out by Friday. Asking someone out when they're really stressed just didn't sound like a good idea and after finals was summer break and he had no clue when he'd see her, again. They were going to some of the same study groups the nights before certain tests, but that wasn't exactly romantic. So their first date would have to be the day after he asked her out.

One day was not a long time to prepare, but he could do it. He didn't want to use his normal first date material. First dates were usually about getting to know the person better but Wilbur and Sophie knew each other pretty well by this point. They weren't best friends, but they had known each other since first grade, and were pretty close. This had to be something just a little different.

He worked hard and planned a fun day at his house. It was easy, relaxed, creative and to someone who didn't live there, very different. She'd been there a few times before, but she hadn't been in the actual house in a few years and a lot had changed since then. First, they just took a leisurely walk in the backyard. It was really nice because they got to talk for a while and hold hands (yay, it was happening!). Next, he borrowed the art room from Laszlo (it wasn't really his room, but he used it more than anyone). He didn't know exactly what he expected, but she liked this sort of thing, and he thought it was fun, too. It devolved into a paint fight pretty quickly, but it was very fun.

After they washed up, he brought her to the kitchen. The frogs entertained her and they talked while he cooked dinner (he learned a lot from Riley- not that what he made was complicated). She was very impressed. It was perfect. She didn't want to leave when her dad came to pick her up. She promised to call him the next day and they kissed before she had to go. Life was good.

* * *

"Ooh, a paint fight, how romantic," Cornelius mocked, similar to the way Wilbur had mocked him about meeting Kylie in a library.

Wilbur shrugged, "It worked. And she's the artsy type, so it showed that I thought about what she would want."

"That is strangely mature and thoughtful of you."

Wilbur paused and looked a little disturbed for a moment. "Oh no," he said under his breath, "I'm turning into you."

Cornelius rolled his eyes. Just what was so wrong with turning into him? But it wasn't even close to true. "Don't worry, you're still far too crass and egocentric to be me."

"Really?" Cornelius nodded. "Phew. Thanks, man, I was really scared there for a moment." The humor in the fact that Wilbur took being called crude and self-centered as compliments was not lost on Cornelius. He wondered, momentarily, where he was going to go wrong.

* * *

A/N #2: I have to thank RenkonNairu for giving me the bit with the frogs, or I would just have had Wilbur do that bit alone. Seriously, I should have thought of it because I already said he had a band with them (I swear, she is just the second half of my brain and vice versa- I guess that'll happen when you're best friends with someone for 16 years). Also, five points to the first person who gets the reason for the frogs' names (only five because it's pretty obvious, especially considering how they are in the movie).

Please review.


	23. Truth or Dare?

A/N: I'm baaack. Sorry this took so long. A combination of a lot to do with work, finishing school for the semester, my mom's birthday, traveling outside of the country and lack of inspiration are to blame. Mostly the traveling thing, though.

As you may be able to imagine, a forced long hiatus from writing this story has made me a bit rusty. This chapter probably sucks as a result. The chapter after next will be much better (I guarantee it) and the next two chapters will be up much faster than this one.

Also, The Museum of Jurassic Technology actually exists, though I have never been there, I have passed it many times driving to other places.

* * *

Wilbur and Sophie were fifteen years old. Much to their delight, and the dismay of their parents, they had plenty of free time on their hands, as it was Summer. Much to the dismay of the teens, and the delight of their parents, they were limited in their options of things to do, as they were too young to drive (at least they had bikes and skateboards). They were a little old to play truth or dare, but they were out of other ideas. Anyway, Wilbur decided it could be very fun this sort of game with his girlfriend (as long as certain limits were observed, but they were in public so that shouldn't be a problem).

They were in an old part of town that had once been abandoned, but was now littered with pretentious art galleries, tourist trap gift shops, various historical museums, ostentatious restaurants where neither teen could read the menu (but they were not hungry so this served no problem) and nightclubs. The architecture was very interesting and there was some weird nostalgic novelty about walking around in a place where most of the buildings predated their great-grandparents. Maybe it was a little creepy, too, and gave Wilbur the excuse to put a protective arm around the girl.

They had just left The Museum of Jurassic Technology (Wilbur would later point out to his parents that it was educational and he had no intention of doing anything wrong), and really had nothing to do until Sophie's father was going to pick them up on his way home from work. They walked lazily up and down the streets; Wilbur with his arm around her shoulders, and Sophie with her arm around his waist. "Truth or dare?" she asked him out of nowhere.

"Dare," he answered without thinking. He pretty much always chose dare. In fact, he only chose truth when he grew tired of being everyone's monkey, which didn't happen often, or when people ran out of dares and started saying things like, "I dare you to tell the truth about…" which was just embarrassing.

"I dare you to…" she paused, "I should start easy, huh?" Wilbur said nothing, "I dare you to... go into that building," she said pointing to an abandoned theater across the street. There were still ripped and disintegrating pieces of advertisements for shows Wilbur guessed never happened. One gave the full dates of when the performances were supposed to occur, in 1949, a full 90 years earlier. It was likely that none of those performers were alive anymore, as they'd probably have to be at least in their 110s (some people lived that long, at this point in time, but not many).

"Breaking and entering?" Wilbur asked. He was not a chicken, but he had never broken the law on a dare before. He couldn't say he'd never broken the law, as he did steal the time machine a few times, which really was grand theft, and he wasn't allowed to drive yet at age 15, but used the time machine as a car a few times, so he'd driven without a license, too. Also, he was pretty sure that at least a few times in his life, he was well past the legal intake limits for sugar and caffeine, if such limits existed (they did not). Somehow, asking a girl out while wearing only his Speedo was one thing (he'd dared other guys to do much worse), but breaking the law for the sole sake of a dare was different.

"Come on. I'll come with you. It's not like there's anyone around here to see us." This was true, as this particular block happened to be abandoned, completely. Who cared, anyway? As it turned out, the door was unlocked (or the lock had already been busted by someone else in the last 90 years).

* * *

"You broke into a building? On a date?"

"It was fun. And we didn't break in, it was already open."

"Still, you are so in trouble when it happens." Wilbur shrugged, it was true.

* * *

It was pretty cool, once they got in. Using their phones as flashlights, they explored the small building. There were spider webs and there had been rats, but it was pretty clear that someone had been in there recently as the actual animals were gone and there were footprints in the dust. The theater was pretty small, as was the stage. Wilbur guessed it held maybe 200 people. Most of the lights were dead, but when Wilbur found the tech booth, he discovered that the spotlight and four or five general stage lights still worked.

Sophie climbed onstage and did a little dance. "This is where I belong," she informed Wilbur while he lazily followed her with the spotlight, "In the spotlight, the only performer onstage, but with only you in the audience." It was very cute, but a little sickeningly so.

"Sounds good to me," Wilbur called back from the booth. She climbed down and headed up to where he was. They ended up just sitting against the back wall of the booth talking for a while. They went back to truth or dare, but they ended up in more of a "truth" mood, and were pretty much just having a frank, if a little silly, conversation. Wilbur enjoyed this as it allowed him to learn a lot about her. He never knew there was so much he didn't know. They dropped the "truth or dare?" question and just asked. "What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you in school?"

"You were there. In fourth grade, when I threw up all over my desk, and that made Mrs. Ten Brink throw up, too. Ugh, I was 'Pukeface' and "Spewy Sophie" for the next month."

"Oh yeah, that was funny. Sorry for starting the 'Spewy Sophie' thing."

"You should be. I'll be sending you the therapy bills," she joked. "If you only had 24 hours to live, what would you do and who would you tell?"

"That's a tough one. Well, I'd tell my family, you and maybe a few friends. I'd want to spend at least the last few hours with my family. Before then, though, I'd have to get into all sorts of trouble. I mean, I wouldn't have to live with the consequences of my actions, right? Let's see… I'd tell off every teacher that ever pissed me off, I'd, well I have a whole list back home of pranks I'd pull, I'd steel," he paused. He was about to say he'd steel the time machine and hang out with his dad when he was the same age, but he couldn't tell her about the time machine. There were probably other things he'd do with the time machine, too, but he wouldn't tell her that stuff even if he could talk about the machine itself. "My dad's car and go joyriding and I'd go to Disneyland."

"Interesting," she responded, "What were you going to say before that joyriding thing?"

"Uh, I can't tell you, but not because I don't want to. I was sworn to secrecy."

"So it's some cool invention of your dad's that is kept a secret from the public?" There were actually dozens of such inventions.

"Kind of."

"Alright, I guess I can live with that."

"What's the worst thing about being a girl?" Wilbur inquired. He wondered about this sort of thing sometimes.

"Cramps, nausea and bleeding all at once."

"Ooh," he said sympathetically, "That sounds like it totally sucks."

She shrugged, "Don't get the wrong idea, though. I definitely wouldn't want to be a guy just to make that stop. So what's the worst thing about being a guy?" He didn't want to answer that. Seeing his hesitation, she stepped in, "Fine, what's the furthest you've ever gone with a girl?"

Huh? "Um, as far as I've gone with you," he answered honestly. It wasn't very far. What did she think?

"Really?"

"Yeah," he answered cautiously. He was a little confused, now.

"I mean, I knew those rumors weren't entirely true, but still…"

"What rumors?" Wilbur asked, a bit of nervousness mixed with the confusion in his voice.

"Oh. You didn't know? Well, supposedly last year, you slept with half the girls in out class. And some of the guys. I paid no attention to the last part until, you know…" So she did pay some attention to the first part? And she still went out with him? He was very confused.

"None of that is true." Sensing her curiosity before she voiced it, he added, "And I didn't sleep with Riley, either."

"None of it? Good to know, I guess." He wanted to find out how much she thought was true and discuss this a little further (how far had she gone with a guy?), but they were interrupted. A big man in a security uniform came in and told them gruffly to get out before he called their parents. They ran off, trying to avoid getting getting in trouble, and thought they were in the clear three long blocks away. Unfortunately, the security guard recognized Wilbur. He wasn't punished too harshly, though, as he didn't steel or vandalize anything, and there wasn't any indication that the building was off limits.

* * *

Cornelius was secretly touched that in his last 24 hours, Wilbur would come by to visit him as a teenager; though he was suspicious that he had just said that right now to get on his good side as Cornelius did have the power to punish him more severely in the future. "Good to know your little escapades in using girls came back to bite you in the butt."

"Once again, it wasn't on purpose. Anyway, they didn't. Sophie still went out with me, didn't she?"

"It shouldn't work that way," Cornelius told his son. It really shouldn't.

"You know, it's getting late and I've kind of run out of interesting stories, I should probably head home."

Cornelius looked at his watch. It was late. He couldn't believe they had wasted that much time. He felt like he needed closure on that last one, though. "No break-up story?"

"Sorry, bro. Hasn't happened."

"Yet," Cornelius added.

"What makes you think it's going to?"

"You're sixteen, and you're you." Wilbur did not look pleased and Cornelius tried to amend this, "Look, how about this: you go back to your time and when it happens you can either tell me the break-up story, or announce your engagement," he sounded very sarcastic at the "engagement" remark, "And I'll tell you the story of how your mother and I got together." He then added hastily under his breath, "Then you can come back here and tell me, 'cause I am clueless."

"Sounds good to me," Wilbur said as he got up. They said goodbye and Wilbur left. Cornelius had to admit to himself that he was very relieved. As long as Wilbur still existed in the future, things would be okay. He hadn't totally screwed things up with Franny. He would get to be with her, someday.

* * *

Please review so I know I still have readers. Also, we are so close to the end (though the story of how Cornelius and Franny get together may take more than one chapter).


	24. Le Breakup

**Wilbur and Sophie breakup! You get it, right? This means Cornelius must fulfill his promise and tell his son how he and Franny got together.**

**Proceed to next chapter. Or stick around to read the worst thing I've ever written.**

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* * *

  
**

Wilbur looked very upset as his father walked past him on his way to the dining room. "Is something wrong, son?"

Wilbur looked somewhat annoyed at the question. "I'm fine."

"Don't give me that. I'm your father, I know when you're upset. If you don't want to talk about it, just say so."

"Fine. I don't want to talk about it right now."

Cornelius looked appeased. "Okay, son. Just know that I'm here whenever you need me. And you can talk to me about anything. I mean it."

Wilbur just nodded and continued to his seat at the table.

Wilbur didn't eat very much that night. Everyone could tell something was up. Unfortunately for Wilbur, this meant that everyone tried their hardest to cheer him up. But Wilbur didn't want to be happy right now. Why could they not accept that? It ended with the boy blowing up at his relatives.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, "I said I didn't want to talk about it!" And with that he got up from the table and stormed off to his room. Cornelius got up and left the room as if to go after his son, but decided to give him a few extra minutes to cool off.

After a while, there was a knock at Wilbur's door. "Hey, buddy, can come in?" his father asked from the hall.

Wilbur heaved a great sigh and reluctantly answered, "Yeah, okay, I guess," as though he was doing his father some favor at great personal expense.

"Let me guess, you broke up with Sophie?"

"Yeah," Wilbur said tiredly, "You were right."

Cornelius shook his head. "It's not about being right. It's about making sure you're okay."

"I'll be fine."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I guess. I mean, it wasn't really fair." He was uncomfortable with telling his dad a lot of the story, but he felt he had to tell someone, and he sure as hell couldn't tell his friends. "I may say some stuff you don't want to hear, but if I'm telling you any of it, I may as well tell you the whole thing." He did clean it up a little, but even as he told the short version, he remembered all the details.

Wilbur and Sophie were celebrating their six-month anniversary. It was a good excuse to be together, be romantic and make out a lot. And she could brag to her girlfriends about how long they'd been together. They were finishing up a last piece of AP Physics homework. He was blatantly breaking the rule about leaving his door open when he had a girl over, but they hadn't enforced it when he was with Riley, so to enforce it with Sophie would be inconsistent. He had a car now, anyway, and could go pretty much anywhere, so if he really wanted to have sex, he could. But his parents (and school) had scarred him enough to convince him to abstain.

Things were going very well. They finished their homework, and they still had a ton of time before they're reservation at the restaurant. So they decided to make out. Things were going even better. Until- wait, what was- Wilbur's eyes burst open and he froze as he realized his girlfriend was unzipping his pants. He removed his lips from her neck. "Wait. Stop." He pushed her off of him as gently as possible and they sat up. He quickly refastened his pants, and then asked, "What are you doing?" She gave him a look that asked if he was really that stupid. "I mean, I know what you were doing, but why?"

"Um, don't you want it?"

"No, I don't." She glanced at his crotch and gave him a disbelieving look. He drew his knees to his chest and tried to think of very unsexy things. It worked, eventually. "Okay, I do want it. But I don't. I just don't think we should."

"Jeez. I was just gonna…you know." He did. "It's not like it's real sex or anything."

Wilbur made no physical reaction, but in his imagination, his palm collided rather forcefully with his forehead. As far as he was concerned, if it involved a sex organ and at least one other person, it was sex. He knew what she meant and understood her point, he just didn't agree. Not by a long shot. A sudden realization hit him. No. No no no no no. The universe just could not work like this. His father could not have been that correct. It wasn't even the old and wise father who was turning 45 in a week. He was Wilbur's age! "I get what you mean, but don't you think that's moving a little fast?"

She had only dated two guys before, but they were both apparently jerks. "Um, no. With both the other guys I dated, we got to this point after two months or less. He didn't get it, but Josh asked for it on the third date. You and I have been together six months. I figured we hadn't yet because you were just too embarrassed to ask. Actually, I kind of thought you'd be upset if I didn't."

"Those other guys you dated were complete assholes."

"You can't say that! You don't even know them."

He sighed. He hated this. He was going to have to be grown up for a while, but it was probably necessary. "Let me ask you a question: do you like it?" She looked confused. "Do like doing…you know, what you were about to do?"

She looked very uncomfortable. "Um, not really. It's kind of gross."

"Then why were you going to do it? Why did you do it with the other guys, you dated? Did you think they'd break up with you if you didn't?"

"Not really. A little, maybe. Mostly it was just expected. And if I did it enough, you'd owe me and return the favor."

"I know I don't have much exper-" she looked at him, "Any experience at this, but I don't think it's supposed to work that way. You don't enjoy doing that, and since I'm only doing that to you because I owe you, it's assumed that I don't want to, either. So you do something you really don't want to in the hopes that I do something I don't want to because I owe you? It just doesn't sound right to me."

"A relationship is give-and-take. You have to do things you don't like sometimes."

"I don't think this is one of those times." It was tired and clichéd, but he just now realized that he wasn't just holding off because logic told him to; he wasn't ready for it. He just wasn't comfortable with the idea of it happening, yet. "You shouldn't do something you're really uncomfortable with. Especially something potentially dangerous like this."

"I know I said it's kind of gross, but I'm not really that uncomfortable with it. Making out is kind of gross, too, but it's fun and I'm not uncomfortable with it." Wilbur knew that last part very well, already.

"Then why can't you even say it? Don't you think it's a little strange that you were willing perform the act, but not say its name? And you look pretty uncomfortable now, just talking about it." Well, at the very least that ridiculously awful conversation he had with his dad was turning out to be helpful.

"I guess. I just don't think it's that big a deal."

"Well, I do."

So where does that leave us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, so we're not doing…that, now. When do we get to it?"

"I don't know. Not anytime soon, though."

"But what if I really want it?"

Did they not just have this discussion? "It's not happening. I can't do something I'm uncomfortable with, and you shouldn't either."

"So that's it? We've hit a wall and we're never going any further?"

"It's not necessarily never. And we just won't go further, physically. There's much more to it than just the physical stuff." Right?

"I know, it's just…I don't know, it feels weird to me to know it's just not gonna happen."

"Sorry, but I just think that's the best thing, right now."

"I guess you're right," she conceded, but he could tell she wasn't happy, and was still very embarrassed. Also, there was a sudden distance between them from realizing that they were so extremely not on the same page. He was sure it'd go away when things calmed down.

"We should probably leave for the restaurant, soon if we want to make our reservation."

"I don't know. I just don't feel like going, anymore. I know that's silly because I've wanted to go for a long time, but I don't think I'd enjoy that atmosphere right now. Maybe we should save it for Valentine's day or something."

Wilbur understood as he didn't really feel like that, now, anyway. "Yeah, I guess. I'll call and cancel." While he was on the phone Wilbur decided that if things worked out with Sophie, he'd be a very happy man. If they didn't, he was taking a good long break before even considering going on another date. Real relationships required him to be responsible, mature and think about other people. He wanted to be immature, irresponsible and selfish for as long as he still could. True, there were always the superficial "relationships" he'd had with all those girls between Bell and Riley, but he didn't want that, either. If was going to do this at all, he wanted the real thing. He just wasn't ready for it.

"I should probably go home, now," she said to him, regretfully.

"No. Wait. You're probably a little embarrassed now, right?"

"It's so much less humiliating when you point it out," she said sarcastically.

He shook his head. "If you leave now, you'll just be putting it off. We have to get over this sometime. Why don't you just stay. We can do something fun."

"Um, I'd really rather go home," She told him. With that, he took her to his car and drove her home.

The next day at school, things were awkward. They were very distant. She didn't smile when she saw him. In fact, she often looked down and avoided his gaze. By lunchtime, even he had heard the rumors that they had broken up. It wasn't true, though. He assured a few people of this. But all the while he told people that he and Sophie were still together, he was wondering how long they would remain so.

At lunch she told him she wanted to talk after school. He acquiesced and they decided he'd drive her home from school and they'd talk once they got to her place.

The rest of the day was a blur. He totally skipped swim practice to drive her home. He didn't have the energy for it, anyway.

The drive to her home was silent and isolating, but Wilbur dreaded actually getting there. Too bad it only took a few minutes.

"So, what's up?" he asked innocently. Why he chose to make it harder on the both of them, he did not know.

"You're such a good guy. Somehow I missed that before tonight." This wasn't what Wilbur expected, but her regretful tone told him not to get his hopes up. "I mean, you held doors open and all that chivalry stuff, but I never realized it was sincere, before. Historically, guys only did that when they wanted to get in my pants. I guess that's part of why I assumed what I shouldn't have. It never occurred to me that you might actually be a gentleman." Why did everyone think he was a jackass? "The problem is that I've spent all our time together, and a lot of the time we were just friends before, thinking you were a completely different person than you are." Oh, here it was. "I know it probably makes me a terrible person and a slut to do this right after what we just decided-" he had to cut her off. He couldn't stand to hear anyone talk about her like that, even if it was she was the one talking.

"Don't say that. You know it's not true. Don't let anyone make you believe that, ever. It's an unfortunate circumstance, yes, but you're not a bad person for wanting to end it, now. It obviously couldn't work if you were going on faulty premises."

"See what I mean?" she asked, laughing sadly, "You're such a nice guy, you have to make me feel good about myself, even as I'm breaking up with you." She sighed, "It's just that I don't want a nice guy." Wilbur nodded. So he had been correct that time. Damn. "Look, I know this is weird for me to be saying, especially right now, but you are exactly what most girls want. You're cute, you're funny, you have that je ne sais quoi, but unlike most guys like that, you're actually a good person. People like you are really rare. It's not fair for me to keep you while some other girl who will be much more deserving and appreciative is out there looking for you."

"Thanks, I guess." Leave it to Sophie to make him thank her while she dumped him.

"I'm really sorry, Wilbur."

"I know. I am, too." He opened the door and she hugged him and left the car. He cursed his parents for inculcating in him with that stupid conscience. If it weren't for them and their dumb values, he would be very happy right now. He'd be with Sophie and she'd be doing very nice things to him. Instead, he had just been dumped and found out his girlfriend only liked him because she thought he was someone else.

"You were right, I didn't want to hear some of that. But I'm very proud of you, Wilbur. It wasn't easy, but you did the right thing for the right reasons. I'm very sorry it backfired. I hope how this turned out won't adversely affect your decisions in the future," he said warningly, "I do understand why you were so upset, though."

Wilbur sighed. "I was even more upset because you were right." Cornelius looked a little confused. He didn't remember every little detail of all their conversations from 28 years ago, though he supposed that was when he made the correct statement. "You said I need to talk about sex with someone I'm dating in the beginning. That just deciding for myself to hold off wasn't enough."

"Ah, yes. Now I remember. I wouldn't have known had I not learned the hard way. Though, my situation wasn't s difficult as yours. I just wanted to save you from the same fate. Maybe it's just one of those things you have learn through experience." This made Wilbur feel marginally better.

"So you, I told you how my relationship with Sophie ended. You have to keep up your end of the deal, too."

"Oh right. I promised I'd tell you how I ended up with your mother. Okay then," he started.


	25. The End

Dating Advice Finale: How Cornelius and Franny Got Together

A/N: I wrote most of this well over a year ago. I barely remember writing it. On the plus side, it's over! I finally posted it and the one or two of you who care can know my intentions. I hope that one or two of you enjoy. (Oh and sorry about the last chapter).

* * *

Cornelius was out at a restaurant with his parents, celebrating his father's birthday, which was only a few weeks before his own. They were getting ready to go home to a very special homemade birthday pake (a cross between a cake and a pie that Lucille had invented) when something caught Cornelius's eye.

No, it couldn't be. He blinked and shook his head. But it was. He could clearly see Ethan sitting at a table _with a girl who was decidedly __**not**__ Franny_. She wore her obviously bleached-blonde hair in a messy bun, with a low cut, dark red spaghetti-strap tank top and a necklace with a small pendant that went right down to her cleavage. But maybe it was innocent. She could be a relative, or something or a platonic friend he just happened to be eating with at a nice restaurant, right? Cornelius had no reason to suspect anything wrong. Then, he kissed her. In a way you do_ not_ kiss a relative. No. He thought about taking out his phone and snapping a photo, but the kiss was over by the time it occurred to him.

"Is something wrong, honey?" his mother asked, looking concerned. He had been staring and gripping the table so hard his knuckles were white.

"No, just give me a second, will you? I see a friend and I want to say hi."

"Sure thing, kiddo," his dad told him, casually, after eying him suspiciously for a moment. "We'll meet you at the door."

Cornelius nodded and stood up. He muttered a quick "Thanks," to his parents and then walked toward Ethan hoping for some explanation. He didn't want believe that anyone would hurt Franny like this. But he knew what it was. It made perfect sense, too. Ethan had been so angry at and jealous of Cornelius, and yet had given the two plenty of time to spend together. Okay, he probably didn't realize Franny was spending all that time with Cornelius, but he seemed to never be around, anyway. Even last Saturday night he was busy. Well, Cornelius would not have stood for that treatment of any friend, but especially not Franny.

He approached to Ethan's table, a fake smile plastered to his face. "Hi Ethan. Fancy, meeting you here." For a moment Ethan looked like a deer caught in headlights. Then his featured smoothed into a pleasant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Oh, hi Cornelius. Melody, this is my friend Cornelius. Cornelius, this is my… uh cousin Melody," he introduced them. Cornelius did not want to know her name. He didn't want this girl to be human in his eyes. Melody looked taken aback at being called a cousin. Cornelius guessed that she didn't know she was "the other girl". He didn't know if this made Ethan more or less of a louse.

Cornelius turned to Melody, and as politely as possible asked, "Could I borrow Ethan for a moment? There's something I need to talk to him about."

Melody did not look pleased, but nodded and answered, "Sure, no problem."

Once they were out of earshot, the smile vanished from Cornelius's face, as did all semblance of respect. "Okay, jackass, you want to explain what's going on?"

"I told you," Ethan attempted to sound casual, "She's my cousin." His attempt at defense was flimsy at best.

"I saw you kissing!"

"Okay, you got me. Just don't tell Franny. It would break her heart."

"You think I'm going to sit idly by, while you two-time my best friend?" Cornelius's voice was getting a little louder. He wasn't disturbing the other patrons, but he did half-hope that Melody heard him. "I'll give you three days to do the honorable thing and tell her yourself. You have until Thursday." Ethan nodded. With that, he walked off.

* * *

Thursday rolled around and Cornelius had heard no evidence of Ethan telling Franny what he had seen.

"Franny, I need to talk to you about something," he told her, trying to be as sympathetic as possible. He didn't want to tell her this, but he had to. He sat down on her bed and she sat across from him. "This isn't easy," he said. She looked so pretty in this light.

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, Cornelius. Maybe you'd be more comfortable another time?" She was the one who looked uncomfortable. What did she expect him to say?

He took a deep breath and looked up at her. Her eyes were shining in the most magnificent way. Had her lips always been that pouty? Before he knew what he was doing, Cornelius leaned in to her. Wait, what was he doing?

Suddenly, as if a light switch was flicked, Franny stood up and backed away from her bed. "Did you," she seemed to have trouble actually processing what just happened, "did you just almost kiss me?"

Cornelius closed his eye in regret, but he had to tell the truth. "Yes," he very quickly added, "but I didn't mean to. I'm really, sorry Franny"

"You have feelings for me, don't you?" It wasn't a question; it was an accusation. Cornelius felt very small. "Tell me."

He took a deep breath. "Yes."

She shook her head disappointedly. Cornelius was a little confused as she acted like his love for her was a deliberate act against her. "You can't keep doing this, Cornelius." Almost kissing her? He'd only done it once.

"It won't happen again, I promise."

"I don't believe you. You _always_ do something like this," What? "Albeit, you've never done anything this bad, before. But without fail, just when you're completely unavailable, when you're with or at least obsessed with some other girl, or just when I think I might be happy with some other guy, you just _have_ to pull me back in." What? "You don't even know what I'm talking about do you?" It was another accusation.

Cornelius felt very trapped and confused. He made no reaction, though, as he couldn't figure out what would make her less angry. He looked up at her. She was infuriated. "You're overprotective of me, but just enough hint at something. You tell me how great you think I am, with the girl you love standing right there. Last time, you had your wonderful girlfriend tell me, herself!" He figured out that she was talking about when he and Kylie didn't let her give up on the frogs. "You always have to say or do something to convince me that there might be a chance; but only when there isn't. Well, it's not working this time. Sorry Cornelius, you're too late. You lost your chance," she said regretfully. That physically hurt. "And I suppose you're here to tell me there's something wrong with my boyfriend."

"How did you know?"

"He told me you liked me. He said you were trying to break us up. I didn't believe him. I told him he was nuts. I defended you to the point that we almost broke up. And he was right." Cornelius had given him three days to do some semblance of the right thing. Instead, he used the time to turn Franny against him.

"No Franny. I'm not just trying to break you up. I'd rather see you happy with him if I thought you weren't going to get hurt. But he's cheating on you. I caught him with another girl. I even saw them kiss."

She laughed again. "You know, he even said you might say he cheated. He was so right. I can't believe you'd stoop so low."

"Maybe you can't believe it because I wouldn't. Franny, I'm telling the truth."

"So you conveniently happened to catch him cheating just when you decide you want me. Sounds fishy. Do you, at least, have any proof?" Why didn't he take a picture with his phone?

He looked down, "No."

"Then I don't believe you," she said with finality.

He'd lost. What else could he do? "Fine," he said dejectedly, "But can I just say one more thing?"

"What?" she asked obviously annoyed.

"If I didn't catch him cheating, how did he know that that's what I would say?"

"Just go," she told him.

* * *

"Ooh, are we telling the story of how we got together? Can I join?" Franny asked excitedly. She had come to Wilbur's room to check on him and happened to catch Cornelius's last couple of sentences. Wilbur found it strange that Cornelius dejectedly describing their fight clued her in and made her so happy. It sounded just a little dysfunctional.

Cornelius smiled that goofy smile that usually made Wilbur want to puke. "Please." Franny sat down in a chair, facing father and son and began her side of the tale.

* * *

"Just go," she told Cornelius. She was enraged. More at herself than Cornelius, though. She couldn't help but notice that Cornelius had a point. How did he know? He even told her it'd be in the next few days. How could he have known that much detail? But that didn't prove anything. What else would he have said to try to break them up, if that was his goal? She remembered when she first started dating Ethan, Cornelius had no problem telling Franny exactly what was wrong with him. But maybe he had no legitimate complaints about Ethan this time other than that he was with her. Then, wouldn't he have just said it? Maybe the almost-kiss was on purpose, so he could pull her in, again. She'd just have to figure it out. For now she despised herself for believing either and letting herself get into this situation.

Why couldn't she just give up on Cornelius? It had been five years, which was really more than enough time to get over a little crush. Instead, while her feelings for him waxed and waned over time, they seemed to just be getting stronger, lately. It was even more confusing at times like this, when she honestly had feelings for both of them. But she had to stick with Ethan. She couldn't ruin the friendship she had with Cornelius. What they had was very special and throwing it away for some stupid, short-lived, teenage romance was a very bad idea. He even defended her from her brothers when they became too overprotective and paranoid. No, it was too perfect to waste like that. Now that she thought of it though, just because she couldn't go out with Cornelius didn't mean she had to stay with Ethan. She definitely had some questions for him and she would not hesitate to ask them.

Two days later, she had a date with Ethan, but she needed to talk to him before they could go out. She started out like she believed him over Cornelius, even though after two days' deliberation she found Cornelius's story more likely.

"You were right," she told him, as they sat in chairs in her room, "Cornelius tried to convince me to break up with you on Thursday."

"I told you." He shook his head like it was such a shame, "He's jealous."

"Yeah. He even admitted that he likes me."

"Really?" Ethan asked, failing to mask his surprise. "That was bold," he tried to recover. Then he added, almost panicked, "What did you tell him?"

"That he's my friend and nothing more," she lied, "and that I'm not leaving you for him." Ethan looked relieved. "He did bring up one good question, though."

"Oh?"

She dropped the innocent act, here, and asked him outright, "How did you know he was going to say you cheated?"

He faltered momentarily. "I didn't _know_ per se, but I mean what else would he say? He wasn't very creative, about this," Ethan stated gaining confidence, "He came to me and told me you cheated, first. I knew you'd never do that, though."

This was precisely when Franny figured out her boyfriend had to be lying. She stood up. "Shut up." Cornelius was only human, and prone to jealousy like anyone else. It was not necessarily beneath him to try to break them up. He might even make something up, if he found no better route. But he would never drag Franny's name through the mud to do it. "Tell the truth. You cheated."

He looked confused, "What? No I-"

"Don't lie to me!

"I'm not lying to you." This only served to make her angrier.

"Yes you are. I know it. Now that you've been caught you could at least have the decency to confess."

"It wasn't what it looked like. He had the wrong idea." _Then why'd you lie about it?_ she thought.

"I cannot believe you. How did I miss what slimy bastard you are? You cheated, and then made it worse by turning me against my best friend to cover your own ass." She shook her head in disbelief. She was so infuriated; she was amazed she had the restraint not to lay a hand on him. "I almost lost my best friend because of you!" she might have, already. She was breathing very fast, and scaring him a little. "Get out. Now," she commanded coolly.

"Franny, wait-"

"No! GET OUT!" she pointed to the door. This time he obeyed and left. As he headed down the stairs, she came out of her bedroom. "And if you ever try to call me or contact me in any way ever again, you will regret it!" She slammed her door, threw herself on her bed and started crying angrily. How could she have been so stupid? She had yelled at Cornelius. Oh God. She broke his heart. Not only had she closed the door on a possible romance, she probably closed the door on their friendship. She didn't know exactly what she wanted, but she knew she wanted him in her life. She had to go and ruin it.

Franny's mother knocked on her door, and Franny told her to go away, but she came in anyway. She had to comfort her daughter when she was obviously in so much pain. Art, who was home from college for the weekend, caught up with the boy Franny had just sent out. It was only then that Ethan realized how big a mistake he'd made. Franny would later laugh at her brother's description of what happened. She was at least glad she had her family's support.

* * *

Cornelius left Franny's house, feeling awful. How could he have been so stupid? What was he doing trying to kiss her? Not only had he ruined his chances of being with her, he probably ruined their friendship, too. This was what real heartbreak felt like. Those other times were just practice. What an idiot! He nearly had the perfect thing going. He was going to marry one of his two best friends and the other would be their son. How does it get better than that? And now it was gone.

He went to his lab the moment he got home. When he was very upset, he found he got things built a little quicker provided he already had well-laid plans, because he didn't have to think as much. He was much worse at coming up with new ideas or figuring out how to implement them, though. Thirty-six hours later he realized what time and day it was and decided to get some sleep. He woke up a few hours later, and after a shower and breakfast (oh yeah, food), he went back to the lab. His parents were very concerned, but he insisted he couldn't talk to them about it. At least not now. What would they say when he told them not only was he upset over wrecking any chance he had with the woman he was supposed to marry (because of how he felt, not what he had seen in the future), but that he was also mourning the loss of his son who would never exist? He wondered if he should start working on the time machine right then to fix it, but he wasn't quite knowledgeable enough to actually design it, yet.

While, unbeknownst to Cornelius, Franny and Ethan were arguing, Wilbur's voice rang out in Cornelius' lab, "Yo, Captain Oblivious!" Cornelius was secretly elated to see his son. If Wilbur existed, it meant that he hadn't totally screwed up! But then, he was going to have to talk about his failed romances, which sounded very painful right now. Whatever.

* * *

Franny turned to her son, "You took the time machine?"

"I gave him permission," his father chimed in. True, it was 28.5 years earlier, but Cornelius did tell Wilbur to do it, so the boy shouldn't get in trouble.

"I guess there's no problem then, is there?" Franny conceded.

* * *

The following Monday, Franny was sick of it. She'd been depressed and embarrassed for too long. Gaston thought it was all over Ethan, and tried to comfort her by saying bad things about him; but it only made her feel worse. As terrible as he was, she'd chosen Ethan over Cornelius because of a simple mistake. When her best friend opened up to her and was very vulnerable, she'd crushed him. She didn't even have a reason.

"Gaston, have you ever felt like you were supposed to be with someone? Not a crush, but a feeling like this was the one for you, even when you're not together."

"Um, no. I mean, I hope things will work out like that with the girl I'm seeing now. But I can't say I thought she was the one before we started dating."

"So you don't know what it feels like to totally destroy that over something stupid."

"No, but if you're talking about the guy that just cheated on you-"

"Not him. The one I idiotically chose him over." He looked at her confused.

"Sorry, Fran. I don't know how to help you there. But if you made a mistake, apologizing would probably be a good place to start.

"I know. It's not easy, though." She wasn't too stubborn to apologize to Cornelius; she was too nervous and embarrassed to get in contact with him, which was necessary for a proper apology. "See ya later," she told her brother as she climbed the stairs to her room. It might not be easy, but calling him probably was the right place to start.

Cornelius was surprised to be receiving a call from Fanny. Maybe she didn't hate him, after all. He answered eagerly. "Hello."

"Um, hi Cornelius," she said nervously, followed by a short pause. What was she supposed to say next? "I wanted to apologize for the other night. Ethan cheated, you were trying to do the right thing, and I blew up at you." She didn't want to talk about how she reacted to finding out how he felt. That was inexcusable. "It was mean and wrong. I'm so sorry."

As awkward as the conversation was, Cornelius was thrilled. She didn't hate him, and even wanted to patch things up, it seemed. "No, I'm sorry. You're reaction was justified. I should just have left, then. How could you believe what I said after what I did?"

"You wouldn't lie like that. I should have known. Instead, I let some stupid guy almost convince me you were a bad person. I can't believe I let someone come between us." She had been worried about being with Cornelius and throwing away their friendship over a silly teenage romance, but that was precisely what she had almost done, only without the benefit of being with him.

"It's not your fault. I would have had trouble believing me if I were you, even without someone feeding me lies."

"We're just gonna keep going back and forth like this, aren't we?" Really, they could stop. They were both sorry and very much wanted to stay friends. Point taken.

"Sounds like a plan, to me."

She laughed. The sound was a symphony to him. "I can think of a better use of our time. Wanna come over and watch a movie? Someone just gave Gaston a huge collection of bad martial arts movies. Ten of them have the word 'Ninja' in the title!" Poorly dubbed martial arts movies were a tradition of theirs. They laughed and made fun of the picture they watched, but they also really got into them, cheering for the protagonist and yelling at the screen when the antagonist was on.

"Sounds like a better plan."

They went back to just being friends for a while. Albeit with a lot of blushing, awkward moments and avoidance of many words and phrases. Their friends wondered what their problem was. It was so obvious, and they still spent tons of time together. So why were they not dating yet?

Finally, after two months (it seemed more like years, though) Cornelius thought she had had enough time to get over Ethan, and decided to ask her out. He was very nervous, though. Yes, his love was requited, but that didn't mean she wanted to go out with him. There was a chance that she wouldn't want to mess up what they had. This had to be done very carefully as so much was at stake.

Franny had not wanted go out with Cornelius for reasons already stated. Only, now that they both knew about their mutual feelings, just trying to avoid it wasn't working. For two months they couldn't really hang out alone much because it was just too awkward. She decided it was all or nothing and that she'd ask him out in a week two weeks a month if he didn't first. It might take some time to work up the courage.

They were hanging out with friends tonight at the mall. Lizzy drove Franny, but had to leave early, so Cornelius was driving her home. He figured it was as good a time as ever to ask her out because he didn't see her alone much anymore, and he was sick of waiting. He pulled up in front of her house and got out of the car. He pretty much always walked her to her door when they were alone as he was overprotective, and there wasn't always a parking spot close to her home, so he this was occasionally the only way to ensure that she got in safely. It was just a habit, now. He stopped just before her door.

"Um, Franny?" She turned and looked at him. He had to do it now. "I understand if you don't want to, or something, and we can still be friends, but," he stammered nervously. The look on her face told him to come out with it. "Would you go out with me?"

She smiled very brightly. "I'd love to." The goofiest grin plastered itself onto Cornelius's face. "Call me, okay?" He nodded. He was a little too stunned to talk. "Good night, Cornelius." She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.

He nodded again. "G'night," he managed. She entered her house. Cornelius stood there for a minute and touched his cheek where she kissed him. It was like he had just been kissed for the first time. It tingled and burned a little. He eventually got back in his car and went home. He was very happy.

* * *

"So that's how it happened? Kind of lame. I was expecting some epic tale with a suspenseful plot and maybe someone's life being saved."

Cornelius gave his son a questioning look. "Can you really picture your mother as a damsel in distress?"

"No," Wilbur answered, "But I can picture you in that role, quite easily."

Franny gave a snort of laughter. Yes, she could imagine her husband in dire straits and needing her to rescue him. The idea was actually quite cute. She put the delightful little mental image away for the moment and turned her attention back to her son. "So, ya feeling any better?"

"Yeah, actually." Wilbur nodded "Weird."


End file.
